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*1 


AN  AUTHENTICATED  REPORT 

OP  THE 

TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS, 

FOR  THE 

MURDER  OF  DUDLEY  MARVIN  HOYT, 


WITH  THE  ABLE  AND  ELOQUENT  SPEECHES  OF  COUNSEL,  AND 

“THE  LETTERS,”  IN  FULL, 

WITH  EXPLANATORY  NOTES,  WHICH  FURNISH  A  CLEAR  AND 

COMPLETE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CASE, 


DRAWN  UF  BY  THE  EDITOR  OP  THE 

RICHMOND  80UTHERN  8TANDARD. 


NEW  YORK : 

PUBLISHED  BY  RICHARDS  AND  COMPANY, 

80  ANN  STREET, 


ENTERED  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OP  CONGRESS, 

IN  TUB  YEAR  ONB  THOUSAND  EIGHT  HUNDRED  AND  FORTT-SIX, 

BY  RICHARDS  AND  COMPANY, 

IN  TUB  CLERK  S  OFFICE  OF  THE  DISTRICT  COURT  FOR  THE  SOUTHERN  DISTRICT  OF 

NEW-YORK. 


Tilt  FLOWERS  COLLECT!^ 


PREFACE. 


Search  tha  records  of  our  criminal  courts,  and  you  will  hardly  find  a  case  better  cal¬ 
culated  to  interest,  to  excite,  and  to  warn,  than  that  detailed  in  the  following  report. 
If  we  consider  the  nature  of  the  crime,  the  character  and  standing  of  the  parties,  the 
wide-spread  and  desolating  blight  which  the  improper  indulgence  of  human  passions 
has  brought  upon  the  community,  this  case  stands  without  a  parallel  in  the  criminal 
annals  of  our  country. 

About  the  20th  of  September,  1846,  rumors  became  rife  in  the  City  of  Richmond  of 
.  the  discovery  of  an  improper  intimacy  between  D.  Marvin  Hoyt,  Esq.  and  Mrs.  Willi¬ 
am  R.  Myers.  Mr.  Myers,  the  husband,  was  then  absent,  and  the  intrigue  was  said  to 
have  been  ferreted  out  by  his  brother,  Col.  Samuel  S.  Myers  On  the  23rd,  Mrs.  Myers 
was  removed  by  her  father  to  his  residence  in  Albermarle.  On  the  27th,  Myers  re¬ 
turned  to  Richmond,  arriving  about  half  past  twelve  at  night.  On  the  morning  of  the 
28th,  about  a  quarter  before  seven,  Hoyt  was  found  shot  in  his  bed.  William  R.  Myers, 
Col.  Samuel  S.  Myers,  and  William  S.  Burr  were  immediately  arrested  as  doers  and 
participators  in  the  bloody  deed.  They  were  carried  before  a  committing  magistrate,  and 
■  the  Commmonwealth  being  unprepared  with  her  testimony,  the  parties  were  held  to 
bail,  and  the  case  continued  to  a  future  day.  Hoyt  lingered  twelve  days,  and  died  on 
the  9th  ot  October,  about  a  quarter  past  eight  P.  M.  An  inquest  was  held  upon  his 
body,  and  the  verdict  of  the  jury  found  William  R.  Myers  guilty  of  the  murder,  and 
Samuel  S  Myers  and  William  S.  Burr  guilty  of  aiding  and  abetting  in  the  same.  Upon 
this  inquisition,  the  Coroner  issued  his  precept  for  the  arrest  of  the  criminals.  On 
Monday  the  12th,  the  accused  appeared  in  court,  to  answer  their  former  recognizance, 
and  were  immediately  arrested  under  the  Coroner’s  warrant ;  and  it  is  the  trial  before 
the  Mayor  which  ensued,  that  we  propose  to  lay  before  the  reader.  We  report  this 
case  in  its  initiatory  stage  rather  than  in  its  farther  progress  before  a  higher  court,  be¬ 
cause  a  greater  range  and  wider  latitude  were  allowed  to  the  introduction  of  testimony 
here,  than  could  possibly  be  admitted  under  a  strict  construction  of  the  rules  relating  to 
legal  evidence.  Hence,  the  case  is  more  fully  before  the  public  than  any  succeeding  re¬ 
port  could  have  brought  it. 

Mr.  William  R.  Myers  is  a  native  of  Baltimore,  where  his  parenis  still  reside.  He 
is  a  partner  in  the  wealthy  firm  of  Samuel  S.  Myers  &  Co.  ;  a  gentleman  of  the  high- 
west  respectability,  moving  in  the  first  circle  in  the  City  of  Richmond  Mrs.  Myers,  who 
is  now  about  twenty-three  years  of  age,  is  the  daughter  of  <:  i  Pollard,  a  _aiiantand 
distinguished  soldier  in  the  last  war,  and  at  present  an  e.'  is  s  planter  in  ‘he  county 
of  Albemarle.  Her  mother  is  the  sister  of  the  Hor  '  illiam  C.  Rives,  p^her  con- 


PREFACE. 

•• 

nections  are  as  numerous  and  respectable  as  any  in  the  State  of  Virginia.  She  is  a 
lovely,  talented,  and  accomplished  woman,  and  we  well  remember  when,  a  little  while 
ago,  the  admired  belle  became  the  blushing  bride  of  an  envied  husband.  A  few  short 
years,  and  she,  who  was  surrounded  with  love,  honor,  and  wealth,  finds,  as  the  conse¬ 
quences  of  her  unpardonable  conduct,  herself  a  miserable  outcast,  her  lover  murdered,  her 
father’s  head  bowed  down  with  shame,  and  her  husband  arraigned  as  a  common  felon, 
ts  it  a  wonder  if  she  should  become,  what  rumor  has  already  made  her,  a  raving  ma¬ 
niac,  or  a  desperate  suicide  ? 

Of  Mr.  Hoyt  very  little  is  known.  He  was  a  native  of  Massachusetts,  and  his  con¬ 
nections  are  said  to  have  been  of  the  most  respectable  character.  He  had  been  living 
in  Richmond  for  some  fifteen  years,  engaged  in  the  Lottery  and  Brokerage  business. 
He  had  a  fine  person,  of  which  he  seemed  particularly  regardful,  adorning  it  with  a 
very  outre  and  extravagant  style  of  dress,  which  excited  much  attention,  and  perhaps 
some  animadversion ;  but  until  the  denouement  of  this  unhappy  affair,  we  never  heard 
anything  to  his  disparagement,  either  as  a  merchant  or  a  gentleman. 

Major  Pollard  got  to  Richmond  a  little  while  after  the  execution  of  the  bloody  deed, 
himself  fully  prepared  to  put  Hoyt  to  death.  If  he  had  arrived  a  few  hours  sooner, 
what  a  dramatic  scene  it  would  have  presented,  to  behold  the  father  and  the  husband 
contending  for  the  privilege  of  slaying  the  man  who  had  dishonored  the  daughter  and 
the  wife ! 

This  report,  which  has  been  drawn  up  with  great  care,  originally  for  the  Richmond  « 
“  Southern  Standard,”  is  entirely  impartial.  Indeed  it,  together  with  the  arguments, 
some  of  which  are  splendid  specimens  of  forensic  eloquence,  were  submitted  to  the 
revision  and  correction  of  the  counsel  on  both  sides,  before  they  were  printed  at  all. 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


i 

City  of  Richmond,  \ 
Mayor’s  Court,  Oct  12,  1846. j 
•  At  11  o'clock  the  Mayor  took  his  seat,  and 
the  accused,  who  were  already  under  recog¬ 
nizance,  appeared  with  their  counsel,  Messrs. 
R.  G.  Scott,  Jas.  Lyons  and  Gustavus  My- 
'i  ers,  a  few  minutes  afterwards. 

The  Mayor  sent  for  Mr.  Joseph  Mayo,  the 
■  Commonwealth’s  Attorney  for  the  City  of 
Richmond,  and  requested  his  presence  during 
'  the  examination,  that  he  might  have  the  ben- 
i*sefit  of  his  assistance  if  he  should  require  it. 

The  examination  was  then  entered  into. 

Dr.  E.  H.  Carmichael  was  sworn  and  de¬ 
posed  as  foHows : 

On  the  morning  of  28th  of  September, 
was  called  to  see  Mr.  Hoyt,  about  seven 
^o’clock — found  him  lying  in  bed;  upon 
examination  discovered  a  severe  wound  in 
the  right  side  of  the  frontal  bone,  apparently 
effected  by  a  pistol  shot,  the  ball  had  fractur¬ 
ed  the  bone  and  passed  into  the  brain — I  pass- 
^  ed  my  finger  into  the  wound,  which  was  about 
I  3-8  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  found  the  in¬ 
ner  table  of  the  skuH  extensively  fractured, 
and  many  pieces  of  the  bone  driven  in  on  the 
brain — resolved  to  resort  to  the  operation  of 
trepanning  to  remove  the  loose  pieces  of  the 
,  skuU,  and  any  pieces  of  the  bone  that  I  might 
find.  By  this  process  I  removed  13  or  14 
pieces  of  bone  and  part  of  the  ball.  The 
part  of  the  ball  that  I  found  weighed  13 
grains ;  an  entire  ball  that  wras  found  in  the 
bed  weighed  59  grains.  Besides  this  the 
most  important  wound,  a  ball  had  passed 
through  the  right  thigh  into  the  left,  and 
lodged  under  the  skin ;  this  was  however  so 
slight  an  injury  comparatively,  that  I  did  not 
even  attempt  to  remove  the  ball,  Air.  Hoyt 
observing  that  it  was  a  matter  of  no  conse¬ 
quence.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  the 
wound  in  his  head  having  caused  his  death. 
Found  Mr.  Hoyt  perfectly  sensible,  calm,  and 
collected — informed  him  immediately  of  his 
approaching  end,  and  the  impossibility  of  his 
recovery- — he  was  very  cool  and  expressed  his 
conviction  that  he  would  never  get  well. 
When  asked  how  it  occurred,  he  said  that  he 
was  lying  in  bed  when  some  one  knocked  at 
the  dogr,  and  told  him  to  come  in;  Mr.  Wil¬ 


liam  S.  Burr  entered,  and  remarked  that  he 
had  come  upon  a  very  disagreeable  piece  of 
business,  which  he  hoped  however  could  be 
happily  adjusted;  thereupon  he  handed  him  a 
paper,  to  which  he  said  his  signature  was  re¬ 
quested.  This  paper  was  afterwards  produc¬ 
ed  to  the  court,  and  was  worded  as  foHows : 

“  I,  D.  Marvin  Hoyt,  of  the  city  of  Rich¬ 
mond,  do  hereby  pledge  myself  to  leave  the 
said  city  forthwith,  and  never  to  return  to  it, 
acknowledging  at  the  same  time  the  penalty 
for  any  violation  of  this  pledge  to  be  the  for¬ 
feiture  of  my  life. 

Richmond,  Va.,  Sept.  28,  1846. 

When  he  declined  signing  this  paper,  and 
whilst  he  still  held  it  in  his  hand,  Mr.  ffm. 
E.  Myers  and  Col.  Sam’l.  S.  Myers  came  for¬ 
ward,  and  Col.  Myers  commanded  him  to  sign 
the  paper  immediate!  jT,  which  he  refused  to 
do,  when  William  R.  Myers  advanced  to  the 
bedside,  and  presenting  a  revolving  pistol  to 
his  head,  drew  the  trigger.  The  pistol  snap¬ 
ped;  but  as  he  was  attempting  to  rise,  Myers 
fired  the  second  time,  and  then  continued  to 
fire  several  times  afterwards. 

On  W ednesday,  the  last  day  that  he  was 
sensible — even  then  it  had  become  necessary 
to  arouse  him  from  the  stupor  into  which  he 
was  falling — I  had  another  conversation  with 
him,  in  which  liis  statements  were  substan- 
tiaHy  the  same  as  those  he  made  before — ask¬ 
ed  him  if  he  was  aware  that  Mr.  Boyden  had 
been  implicated  in  the  charges  that  were 
brought  against  him :  he  said  he  was,  and  ad¬ 
ded,.  “  he  is  as  innocent  as  you  are.” 

.  Cross-examined. — In  answer  to  a  question 
from  Air.  Lyons.  Know  nothing  about  this 
affair,  except  what  Hoyt  told  me.  H.  said  he 
was  pesting  on  his  elbow,  reading  the  paper 
presented  by  Burr,  when  the  Messrs.  Flyers 
came  forward.  He  did  not  tell  me  at  what 
time  he  got-  oiit  of  bed ;  I  did  not  see  the  pa- 
jjep^jjoth  conversations,  that  on  Monday  and 
that  on  Wednesday  last,  were  very  short  and 
hurried;  iSield  the  last  on  Wednesday,  at  the 
request 'of  the 'Mayor,  simply  to  see  whether 
he  ^continued  to  repeat  his  first  account,  and 
he  did  s<5  exactly. 

Dr.  C.  S.  Mills  was  next  sworn.  I  was 
called  on  by  Dr.  Carmichael  to  assist  him  in 


6 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


trepanning  Hoyt — officiated  in  that  capacity, 
and  visited  him  frequently  afterwards  as  a 
consulting  physician;  heard  Mr.  Hoyt  speak 
lightly  of  his  wounds  up  to  Saturday — since 
then  he  has  hardly  adverted  to  them.  When 
I  first  got  there,  asked  him  how  he  felt — an¬ 
swered,  “  pretty  well,  only  they  have  been 
giving  me  some  blue  pills,”  smiling  and 
pointing  to  his  head.  He  commenced  on  one 
occasion  to  say,  that  it  was  a  horrible  affair 
for  a  man  to  be  shot  down  in  a  civilized  com¬ 
munity,  and  began  to  protest  his  innocence; 
but  I  told  him  that  to  talk  about  it  would  ex¬ 
cite  him  too  much,  and  that  he  had  better  re¬ 
main  quiet — to  which  he  readily  assented. 
On  one  occasion,  he  said,  he  could  get  up  and 
go  about  his  business,  if  his  physician  would 
let  him — discouraged  any  conversation  on  the 
subject  of  this  affair,  because  I  foresaw  the 
probability  of  my  being  examined  on  this  in¬ 
quest,  and  preferred  to  give  my  testimony 
only  as  a  medical  man. 

Cross-examined. — Did  not  make  post  mor¬ 
tem  examination;  was  present  at  conver¬ 
sation  held  by  Dr.  C.  with  Hoyt  on  Wednes¬ 
day  last,  and  heard  him  tell  Dr.  C.  what  he 
has  jgst  related:  at  that  time  Hoyt  spoke  but 
little,  and  seldom,  except  to  reply  almost  cat¬ 
egorically  to  questions  put  to  him;  he  never 
put  any  papers  relating  to  this  matter  into 
my  hands,  nor  did  I  encourage  him  to  talk 
about  it;  when  he  spoke  to  me  of  his  inno¬ 
cence,  he  did  not  say  of  what,  but  only  in 
general  terms,  that  he  was  innocent;  remark¬ 
ed  that  I  had  never  seen  a  man  exhibit  so 
much  fortitude;  he  replied  that  the  reason  of 
it  was  that  he  was  sustained  by  a  good  con¬ 
science. 

James  Evans  was  next  sworn. — He  is  an 
alderman  of  the  city  of  Richmond.  On  Mon¬ 
day  the  28tH  of  September,  between  the  hours 
of  11  and  12,  A.  M.  1  was  called  on  bv  Mr. 
Thompson  Tyler  with  a  request  from  Hoyt 
that  I  would  visit  him  immediately  in  my  of¬ 
ficial  capacity — went  to  his  office  and  found 
him  in  bed — Hoyt  intimated  to  me  that  he 
was  desirous  of  making  a  statement  under 
the  solemnity  of  an  oath  of  the  occurrences 
of  the  morning;  I  administered  it  to  him  in 
the  usual  form,  and  proceeded  to  take  down 
his  statement  in  writing,  just  as  he  delivered 
it.  [This  paper  was  produced  by  Mr.  Evans, 
and  is  in  the  following  words: 

State  of  Virginia,  ) 
Citt  of  Richmond.  ( 

To  Wit:  This  day  D.  M.  Hoyt,  being  duly 
sworn,  deposeth  and  saith.  While  being 
asleep,  between  the  hours  of  six  and  seven 
o’clock  this  morning,  some  ope  knocked  at 
the  door  of  my  room  and  I  told  them  to  cpmc 
in.  The  office  being  open,  the  /servant  having 
just  been  in,  the  person  entering  was  Wrn.  S. 
Burr,  who  handed  me  a  paper,  at  the  same 
time  saying  he  called  on  a  very  unpleasant 
business,  and  hoped  I  would  sign  it,  as  it 
would  probably  prevent  any  further  difficul- 
ty,  saying  that  the  public  were  against  me. 


While  in  the  act  of  reading  the  paper  Col- 
S.  S.  Myers  and  his  brother  William  entered 
my  room.  Col.  Myers  wished  me  to  sign  the 
paper  immediately.  I  declined  signing  it. 
William  R.  Myers  immediately  presented  a 
pistol  at  my  head  and  snapped  it.  It  missed 
fire.  He  pulled  the  trigger  again,  but  whe¬ 
ther  it  exploded  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  im¬ 
mediately  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  while  in 
the  act  of  getting  out,  or  immediately  after 
getting  out,  the  pistol  was  fired  two  or  three 
times  as  near  as  I  can  recollect.  I  received 
one  or  more  balls  in  my  thigh.  I  soon  after 
fell  to  the  floor  and  rolled  down  the  step  in 
my  roam.  Shortly  after  I  fell  aud  rolled 
:  down  the  step,  the  two  Myers  left  my  room, 
i  William  S.  Burr  I  have  no  recollection  of 
'  having  seen  after  the  snapping  of  the  pistol.11 
While  lying  on  the  floor  and  not  expecting 
to  live  many  minutes,  and  in  the  presence  of 
the  two  Myers’s,  I  said  that  I  was  innocent 
of  any  crime,  and  the  lady  in  question  also; 

’  and  I  now  repeat  the  same,  and  shall,  to  thdB 
|  moment  of  my  death. 

(Signed)  D.  M.  HOYT,  f\ 

Witness — E.  H.  Carmichael,  Frederick 
Boyden,  Thompson  Tyler,  E.  B.  Pendleton,' 
M.  B.  Poitianx,  jr. 

Sworn  and  subscribed  to  at  ten  minutes 
j  before  twelve  o’clock  by  D.  M.  Hoyt,  in  the;  * 
j  presence  of  E.  H.  Carmichael,  Frederick, 

;  Boyden,  Thompson  Tvler,  E.  B.  Pendleton,' 
j  and  M.  B.  Poitiaux,  jr.,  this  28th  day  of 
'  September,  1846;  as  witness  my  hand  and 
|  seal  the  day  and  date  above  written, 

JAMES  EVANS,  J.  P.  [seal.]  f 

Mr.  Evans  then  went  on  to  state,  that  after 
retiring  out  of  Hoyt’s  presence,  he  returned 
and  asked  him  whether  he  made  the  state-  J 
ment  he  had  just  signed  in  anticipation  of  1 
approaching  death,  or  whether  he  had  any  •” 
expectation  of  surviving  the  wound.  He  - 
answered,  “  1  made  the  statement  under  the  , 
belief  that  I  am  to  die.  I  never  was  placed  *1 
in  such  circumstances  before,  but  I  made 
them  under  the  impression  that  I  could  not® | 
last  long,  and  I  now  repeat  them,  and  shall  ' '* 
to  the  moment  of  my  death,”  his  head  sink-  «| 
ing  back,  and  his  voice  dying  away  as  he  ut¬ 
tered  the  last  words.  Don’t  think  I  ever  saw  , 
any  one  exhibit  more  composure —was  in-  ■ 
duced  to  make  the  remark  that  he  was  as  J 
placid  as  a  sleeping  infant — no  excitement  J 
about  him — once  he  indistinctly  spoke  of 
“  this  murder,  or  whatever  you  may  choose 
to  call  it,”  but  in  what  connexion  it  was 
spoken  I  did  not  understand. 

He  was  asked  if  he  knew  whether  Hoyt 
!  was  an  atheist,  as  was  reported  out  of  doors. 
Mr.  Evans  replied,  that  he  made  no  enquiry 
upon  that  subject,  but  that  he  took  the  oath 
without  objection  or  remark.  When  I  asked 
for  a  bible,  the.  young  man,  who  seemed  much 
agitated,  handed  me  a  book  which  was  not  a  ! 
bible;  Hoyt,  who  was  much  the  most  collect¬ 
ed  man  in  the  room,  reproved  him  for  it,  and 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


told  him  where  he  would  find  the  proper 
book,  which  was  then  brought  to  me. 

Cross-examined. — In  drawing  up  the  pa¬ 
per  I  put  down  the  words  as  Hoyt  used  them, 
even  to  tautology.  At  the  end  of  each  sen¬ 
tence  I  would  ask  him  if  it  were  correct,  and 
make  such  alterations  as  he  directed.  Did 
not  converse  with  Hoyt  on  this  subject  after¬ 
wards,  but  went  again  to  take  his  affidavit 
upon  the  subject  of  Mr.  Boyden’s  innocence 
of  any  participation  in  the  matter.  Heard 
him  say  on  that  occasion,  “  Well,  Boyden, 
this  presents  something  the  appearance  of  a 
butcher’s  block.”  Was  told  by  Mr.  Tyler, 
who  came  for  me,  that  he  was  sent  either  by 
Mr.  Hoyt  or  Dr.  Carmichael,  I  don’t  know 
which. 

Dr.  Carmichael  was  called  and  asked  by 
Mr.  Lyons  if  he  knew  how  Mr.  Evans  came 
to  be  sent  for.  Replied — I  was  in  an  adjoin¬ 
ing  room  to  the  patient  when  Mr.  Boyden 
asked  me  if  it  was  not  customary  to  take  the 
affidavit  of  a  dying  man  under  such  circum¬ 
stances.  I  thanked  him  for  reminding  me  of 
this  omission  of  a  part  of  my  professional 
duty.  I  went  back  and  asked  Mr.  H.  if  he 
desired  to  make  an  affidavit;  he  said  he  did, 
and  I  then  got  Mr.  Tyler  to  go  for  Mr.  Evans, 
as  the  nearest  magistrate. 

Orlando  A.  Pegram  was  then  sworn — 
I  live  as  a  clerk  in  the  store  of  Mr.  Crantz, 
the  tenement  next  below  Hoyt’s  office— saw 
S.  S.  Myers  and  W.  R.  Myers  pass  up  the 
street  before  the  store  door  about  a  quarter 
before  seven  on  the  morning  of  the  28th — 
very  shortly  afterwards  heard  the  report  of 
three  pistol  shots,  which  I  supposed  proceed¬ 
ed  from  Mr.  Hoyt’s  room;  in  4  or  5  minutes 
saw  the  two  Messrs.  Myers  pass  down  the 
street;  as  they  returned,  Col.  Myers  seemed 
very  much  agitated,  but  W.  R.  Myers  ap¬ 
peared  quite  composed.  Had  heard  rumors 
about  Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Myers,  two  or  three 
days  before  for  the  first  time,  but  had  seen 
nothing  to  warrant  me  in  supposing  them  to 
be  true. 

Cross-examined. — 1  was  induced  to  go  to 
the  door  when  I  saw  the  Myers  go  up  the 
street  in  consequence  of  the  rumors  1  had 
heard  two  or  three  days  before  about  Mrs. 
Myers  and  Mr.  Hoyt.  I  have  been  living 
with  Mr.  Crantz  for  about  three  years,  but 
never  saw  anything  to  justify  these  rumors. 

I  did  not  see  Wm.  S.  Burr  go  up  the  street, 
but  I  saw  him  come  down  with  the  Myers. 

John  A.  Hawes  sworn — I  live  with  W.  & 
E.  P.  Carpenter  &  Co.  in  the  store  two  doors 
below  Hoyt’s  office;  servant  came  in  on  the 
morning  of  the  28th,  and  informed  me  that 
he  had  seen  the  Messrs.  Myers  getting  out  of 
a  carriage  in  the  alley  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Exchange — went  to  the  door  and  saw  W.  R. 
Myers  and  another  gentleman,  whom  I  after¬ 
wards  learned  to  know  as  Col.  S.  S.  Myers, 
enter  Mr.  Hoyt’s  office — in  three  or  four  mi¬ 
nutes  they  returned  with  another  to  me  un¬ 
known,  and  entered  the  carriage  which  re¬ 


7 

mained  waiting  for  them  in  the  alley — W.  R. 
Myers  directed  the  driver  to  hasten  up  Main 
street  as  fast  as  he  could  go — the  carriage  was 
an  old  one,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being 
a  city  hack — observed  several  fishing  poles 
tied  underneath  it. 

Cress  examined. — I  went  to  the  front  door, 
because  the  rumor  I  had  heard  about  Mr. 
Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Myers  induced  me  to  think  the 
Myers  were  going  to  Hoyt’s  room  to  get  sa¬ 
tisfaction.  Can’t  sayN  exactly  of  whom  I 
heard  these  rumors,  but  of  two  or  three  who 
were  talking  about  it  at  various  times  before 
the  door.  I  did  not  hear  the  report  of  a  pis¬ 
tol. 

Eugene  B.  Pendleton  sworn — I  lived 
with  Hoyt  in  the  capacity  of  a  clerk;  was 
going  down  the  street  on  Monday  morning, 
when  I  was  informed  Mr.  Hoyt  was  shot — 
went  back  to  the  office — heard  Mr.  Hoyt  call¬ 
ing  for  his  servant — his  room  door  was  closed 
— went  in,  and  fouud  him  in  bed.  The  bed 
had  a  great  deal  of  blood  on  it.  He  told  me 
if  I  would  look  on  the  bed  I  would  find  a 
paper  brought  to  him  by  William  S.  Burr, 
which  paper  B.  requested  him  to  sign ;  that 
while  reading  it,  reclining  on  his  elbow,  Wm. 
R.  Myers  and  Samuel  S.  Myers  came  in — 
that  Samuel  S.  Myers  said  he  must  sigii  it, 
and  on  his  declining  to  do  so,  William  R. 
Myers  presented  a  pistol  to  him,  which  he 
snapped — that  he  then  jumped  out  of  bed, 
but  could  not  say  when  he  was  shot — that  he 
fell  off  the  platform  into  the  room  below — 
that  he  by  some  means  got  a  towel,  wiped 
the  blood  from  his  eyes,  and  then  scrambled 
back  to  his  bed.  He  asked  me  to  go  for  a 
doctor,  which  1  did. 

Cross-examined. — I  have  been  living  with 
Mr.  Hoyt  three  years  from  last  May.  I 
heard  reports  which  connected  the  name  of 
Mr.  Hoyt  with  that  of  Mrs.  Myers  for  several 
days  before  H.  was  shot. 

[Mr.  Mayo,  who  had  been  absent,  here 
asked  if  rumors  had  been  previously  received 
in  evidence.  The  Mayor  stated  that  they 
had — that  it  was  his  custom,  while  sitting  as 
a  committing  magistrate,  to  receive  all  the 
evidence  that  was  offered,  that  he  might 
know  what  witnesses  ought  to  be  recognized 
to  appear  before  a  higher  tribunal.  Of  course 
he  took  care  to  discard  all  that  was  illegal  in 
making  up  his  opinion  of  the  propriety  of 
discharging  or  sending  on  the  prisoners. 

The  examination  then  proceeded. 

Mr.  Pendleton  continued:  Mr.  Hoyt 
asked  me  two  or  three  days  before  he  was 
shot  if  I  had  heard  any  reports  about  him  and 
Mrs.  Myers;  I  said  I  had;  he  asked  me  to 
notice  who  talked  about  them  thereafter,  and 
to  let  him  know,  as  he  wanted  to  put  a  stop 
to  them;  I  told  him  I  would;  there  was  not 
much  intimacy  between  me  and  Hoyt;  this 
was  the  first  time  he  spoke  to  me  of  Mrs. 
Myers;  after  this  conversation  I  did  take  no¬ 
tice,  and  never  heard  any  one  speak  of  the 
reports;  the  subject  was  never  mentioned  be- 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


8 

tween  ns  again  until  after  he  was  shot.  I  do 
not  recollect  who  it  was  that  I  heard  speak  of 
these  rumors;  can’t  remember.  [Afterwards, 
questioned  again  by  Mr.  Scott,  he  said :]  I 
think  I  remember  now  hearing  Mr.  Poore 
speak  of  them,  also  Mr.  William  Bigger; 
Hoyt  did  not  ask  me  to  tell  him  who  1  had 
heard  talking  about  it,  only  to  inform  him  if 
I  heard  any  body  talking  about  it  again ;  I 
therefore  did  not  tell  him  whom  I  had  heard 
talking  about  it.  [In  answer  to  questions  by 
Mr.  Lyons:]  I  had  seen  Hoyt  and  Sirs.  M. 
in  conversation  at  her  carriage  door,  as  it 
stood  in  the  street;  I  recollect  only  once  on 
which  this  happened ;  I  was  standing  in  our 
door  when  the  carriage  drove  up  opposite 
Mr.  Crantz’s  door,  where  Mrs.  Myers  dealt; 
Hoyt  was  in  the  office,  but  whether  he  was 
behind  or  in  front  of  the  screen  that  sits  be¬ 
fore  the  door  I  cannot  say;  I  never  then  nor 
at  any  time,  gave  him,  either  by  word  or  sig¬ 
nal,  notice  of  Mrs.  Myers’ approach;  on  this 
occt^ion  he  came  out  and  passed  me  as  I 
stood  in  the  door,  and  went  to  the  door  of 
the  carriage  and  talked  to  Mrs.  Myers;  I  do 
not  know  how  he  knew  the  carriage  was 
there;  perhaps  he  heard  it  when  it  drove  up; 
do  not  remember  that  I  ever  saw  him  go  out 
to  the  carriage  before;  this  happened  more 
than  a  week,  probably  more  than  a  fortnight 
before  he  was  shot;  J  can’t  tell  what  impress¬ 
ed  it  particularly  on  my  mind;  had  never 
heard  of  any  rumors  when  I  saw  Hoyt  at  the 
carriage  door. 

Mr.  Mato  here  rose  and  said,  that  he  de¬ 
clined  to  ask  the  witness  any  questions  about 
rumors  that  he  heard,  lest  he  should  appear 
to  commit  himself  to  a  course  of  examina¬ 
tion  that  he  did  not  approve.  At  another 
stage  of  this  proceeding,  if  it  arrived  there, 
he  should  certainly  resist  it.  Mr.  Lyons  re¬ 
plied  with  great  warmth,  that  they  had  a  le¬ 
gal  right  to  enquire  into  the  nature  and  cha¬ 
racter  of  these  rumors;  that,  in  this  way, 
they  had  already  elicited  the  fact  that  the 
wife  of  his  unfortunate  client  had  become  so 
stale,  that  her  name  was  in  the  mouth  of 
every  negro  on  the  street,  and  that  the  very 
counter  boys  were  agitated  and  excited  by 
the  horrid  tale.  Was  it  to  be  expected  that 
the  wronged  husband  alone  should  be  cool 
and  calm  under  such  circumstances?  He 
(Mr.  Lyons)  spoke  warmly,  because  he  was 
himself  a  husband  and  a  father,  and  he  could 
not  but  sympathize  with  those  who  had  been 
so  foully  wronged  in  these  delicate  relations. 
Mr.  Mayo  expressed  his  surprise  that  Mr.  L. 
should  exhibit  so  much  excitement  upon  so 
simple  a  proposition.  He  hoped  he  estimated 
as  highly  as  any  man  what  belonged  to  a  hus¬ 
band  and  a  father;  he  stood  there  in  most 
peculiar  circumstances,  with  a  desire  to  wrong 
no  one,  but  with  a  desire  to  sec  the  laws  of 
the  land  justly  and  fairly  administered.  His 
only  object,  in  rising  before  was  to  explain 
the  singular  position  in  which  he  found  him¬ 
self  by  the  request  of  the  Court,  and  to  inti¬ 


mate  that  he  must  not  be  considered  as  con¬ 
senting  to  the  legality  of  all  the  evidence  that 
had  been  given  in  here  to-day.  He  wished 
to  avoid  all  excitement,  and  he  trusted  that, 
under  all  circumstances.  God  would  give  him 
patience  to  discharge  his  duties  as  a  public  of¬ 
ficer  should  do. 

Thompson  Tyler  sworn — I  live  in  the 
Exchange;  was  sitting  in  the  barber’s  shop 
on  the  morning  of  the  27th;  a  negro  came 
running  in,  saying  that  Mr.  Hoyt  had  been 
shot,  and  that  I  was  wanting  in  his  room  im¬ 
mediately;  proceeded  to  the  chamber,  and 
found  a  pool  of  blood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps 
leading  from  the  chamber  into  the  office;  Mr. 
Hoyt  was  lying  on  the  bed,  wiping  his  face 
with  a  towel. 

[The  witness  here  detailed  the  statement 
made  to  him  by  Hoyt,  to  exactly  the  same 
amount  as  that  already  reported  by  Dr.  Car¬ 
michael.] 

He  aided  :  Hoyt  frequently  said  to  me, 

“  Tyler,  old  fellow,  it’s  hard  that  an  inno¬ 
cent  man  should  be  shot  down  in  this  way.” 

I  found  a  small  tea-spoonful  of  something 
that  I  supposed  to  be  Hoyt’s  brains,  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps;  found  one  ball  in  the 
bed ;  it  had  passed  quite  through  the  mattress 
and  lodged  in  the  rail  of  the  bedstead,  and 
probably  the  balls  are  there  now.  Hoyt 
thought  that  it  was  the  second  ball  that  took 
effect  in  his  head. 

Cross  examined — I  live  at  the  Exchange  as 
assistant  manager;  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Myers 
about  the  hotel  frequently;  not  oftener 
though  than  other  ladies;  on  one  occasion  I 
recollect  seeing  Mr.  II.  and  Mrs.  Myers  in 
the  parlor  together;  Mr.  William  Myers 
came  to  the  bar  about  five  minutes  after¬ 
wards,  and  then  proceeded  towards  the  par-  . 
lor;  I  do  not  know  when  or  how  Mr.  Hoyt” 
got  into  the  parlor,  or  when  he  went  out;  I 
saw  him  sitting  there  as  I  happened  to  pass 
by  the  door;  this  was  the  only  time  I  ever  re¬ 
member  to  have  seen  them  together  in  the 
house ;  the  weather  was  warm,  and  the  win¬ 
dows  and  doors  were  all  open,  so  that  the* 
room  was  perfectly  public;  I  never  said  that  I 
had  seen  them  together  under  suspicious  cir¬ 
cumstances;  am  sure  of  it;  I  never  told  Mr. 
Poitiaux  Robinson  that  I  had  seen  things 
that  excited  my  suspicious;  he  said  to  me 
something  about  a  book  that  Mr.  H.  had 
given  Mrs.  Myers  in  church,  that  had  excited 
talk;  I  said  it  was  very  remarkable  that  it 
should,  but  I  am  very  sure  that  I  never  told 
him  of  anything  that  I  knew  to  excite  suspi¬ 
cion;  I  do  not  know  of  their  ever  having  had 
the  use  of  No.  18;  think  I  should  have  known 
it  if  they  had ;  I  never  said,  as  well  as  I  can 
remember,  that  Mrs.  Myers’s  coming  to  the 
hotel,  without  asking  for  ladies,  had  excited 
my  suspicions;  I  never  mentioned  the  sub¬ 
ject  to  Mr.  Boyden,  nor  lie  to  me;  I  have  no 
knowledge  of  their  ever  having  been  in  any 
other  room  except  the  parlor,  and  that  on 
the  occasion  I  have  mentioned;  the  parlor 


TRIAL  OT  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


was  always  open,  and  seldom  empty;  I  never 
told  Mr.  P.  Robinson  that  it  was  strange  that 
Mr.  Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Myers  should  remain  in 
the  parlor  together  from  eleven  to  one,  nor 
anything  of  the  sort.  Asked — Are  you  sure 
nothing  passed  between  you  and  Mr.  Robin¬ 
son  on  the  subject  ?  he  paused,  and  said, 
perhaps  there  might  have  been,  but  don’t  re¬ 
collect  anything  but  that  about  the  book. 
Didn’t  you  say  anything  to  him  about  their 
being  in  the  parlor  ?  Ans. — He  said  to  me 
something  about  their  being  there,  but  I  told 
him  that  Mr.  Myers  was  there  also.  No.  19 
is  the  ladies’  reception  room;  No.  18  is  called 
the  club  room,  and  is  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  passage;  it  is  one  of  the  most  public 
rooms  in  the  house;  has  four  windows  open¬ 
ing  out  on  the  piazza,  where  the  gentlemen 
generally  sit  to  smoke  segars.  [Upon  being 
questioned  more  particularly,  said,]  the  win¬ 
dows  to  No.  18  are  furnished  with  blinds 
which  open  on  the  inside;  persons  in  this 
room,  by  shutting  the  door  and  closing  the 
blinds,  would  be  perfectly  private;  I  do  not 
know  when  the  conversation  with  Mr.  Rob¬ 
inson  occurred,  except  that  I  remember  it 
was  during  the  hot  weather. 

[His  examination  being  finished,  Mr.  Ty¬ 
ler  asked  leave  to  quit  the  court  for  an  hour  or 
two.  The  counsel  for  the  defence  said  they 
had  no  objection  to  his  doing  so,  but  advised 
him  not,  on  his  own  account,  as  they  felt 
bound  to  apprise  him  that  his  evidence  would 
be  directly  impeached.] 

J.  W.  Calder  sworn — I  live  at  the  Ex¬ 
change  as  assistant  manager — got  to  Mr. 
Hoyt’s  room  a  little  before  seven  o’clock;  at 
Mr.  Hoyt’s  request  looked  for  a  paper,  which 
he  said  was  on  the  bed,  and  which  lie  had 
been  shot  for  refusing  to  sign;  found  it  be¬ 
tween  the  bed-clothes  and  the  wall  against 
which  the  bed  was  placed;  he  asked  me  to 
take  care  of  it,  and  I  did  so;  it  was  out  of 
my  possession  only  once,  when  Mr.  Wm.  M. 
Robinson,  of  Petersburg,  borrowed  it;  w'hen 
I  asked  for  it,  found  it  in  possession  of  Mr. 
Tyler;  kept  it  afterwards  until  it  was  delivered 
up  at  the  Coroner’s  inquest.  [The  Mayor 
handed  Mr.  Calder  the  paper  we  copied  be¬ 
fore,  and  asked  him  if  that  was  the  one  to 
which  he  referred ;  he  said  that  it  certainly 
was,  and  that  he  identified  it  by  the  general 
appearance,  and  a  spot  of  blood  that  rested 
upon  it.]  In  answer  to  an  inquiry  from  Mr. 
Lyons,  Mr.  Calder  said,  Hoyt  told  me  that 
Burr  presented  the  paper;  he  declined  sign¬ 
ing  it,  and  Burr  then  withdrew  as  Mr.  Myers 
came  forward  and  made  the  attack. 

Francis  Scraper  sworn.  I  saw  on  the 
morning  of  the  28th,  Wm.  S.  Burr  and  Col. 

S.  Myers  going  from  the  step  of  Hoyt’s  door 
lown  towards  the  lower  corner  of  the  Ex¬ 
change;  I  did  not  notice  the  third  man. 

Mr.  W.  V.  Crouch  was  then  sworn.  He 
Testified  that  he  was  riding  down  the 
itreet  early  on  Monday  morning;  saw  Wm. 
R.  Myers,  Col,  Myers  and  Burr  come  out  of 


9 

Hoyt’s  office  and  get  into  a  hack  at  the  lower 
corner  of  the  Exchange  tavern. 

Frederick  Boyden,  the  keeper  of  the 
Exchange  Hotel,  was  then  sworn.  I  know 
nothing  about  this  matter  except  what  Hoyt 
told  me;  I  was  present  when  Mr.  Evans  took 
his  affidavit :  don’t  recollect  speaking  to  him 
afterwards  upon  this  subject. 

Cross  Examined. — I  am  not  aware  of  any 
interviews  between  Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Myers,  in 
my  house;  I  was  at  Old  Point  Comfort  this 
summer,  about  the  1st  of  August;  when  I  re¬ 
turned,  a  gentleman  staying  in  my  house,  Mr. 
Mosby,  told  me  that  he  had  seen  Hoyt  and 
Mrs.  Myers  come  out  of  No.  18,  he  asked  a 
servant  who  the  lady  was,  and  he  said  that  it 
was  Mrs.  Myers ;  I  paid  no  attention  to  it,  for 
I  did  not  believe  it,  especially  as  it  depended 
on  the  statement  of  a  negro;  I  was  not  very 
intimate  with  Mr.  Hoyt,  nor  do  I  believe  any 
one  here  was;  he  mentioned  his  matters  rela¬ 
ting  to  his  business  or  his  private  affairs  to  no 
one;  certainly  not  tome.  I  did  one  day  re¬ 
ceive  a  note  from  a  servant  in  the  presence  of 
a  dozen  persons,  in  which  I  was  simply  asked 
to  hand  the  enclosed  to  Mr.  Hoyt;  I  did  so, 
and  detained  the  servant  until  Hoyt  told  me 
there  was  no  ansiver;  I  always  do  this,  to  pre¬ 
vent  the  necessity  of  sending  my  own  ser¬ 
vants  away  with  an  answer;  I  did  not  even 
notice  the  servant,  nor  do  I  know  who  he 
was;  some  days  afterwards  Hoyt  and  my¬ 
self  were  going  to  Petersburg,  to  the  races; 
he  said  to  me  before  starting  “  there  is  a  note 
for  me  enclosed  in  one  for  you  in  the  posses¬ 
sion  of  Miss  Burr,  of  this  city;  I  wish  you 
would  send  for  it  and  let  me  have  it.”  I 
wrote  to  Miss  Burr  for  it — here  a  note  was 
produced,  which  Mr.  Boyden  admitted  to  be 
the  one  he  alluded  to.  It  read  as  follows  : 

“  I  understand  that  Miss  Burr  has  a  note 
for  me,  which  I  am  anxious  to  get  before  I 
leave  town,  as  it  may  require  my  attention  be¬ 
fore  I  leave.  You  will  confer  a  favor  by  send¬ 
ing  it  by  the  bearer,  and  oblige 
Yours,  respectfully, 

FRED’K  BOYDEN. 

Exchange,  23d  Sept.  1846.” 

[We  are  requested  to  state  that  the  note 
left  with  Miss  Burr  was  handed  to  her  by 
Mrs.  Myers,  with  the  assurance  that  it  con¬ 
tained  notes  which  she  wished  Mr.  Boyden  to 
have  changed  into  gold  for  her.] 

Mr.  Botden  continued:  I  said  to  Hoyt,  as 
the  note  is  for  you,  you  can  take  it  when  the 
servant  comes,  and  I  thought  no  more  about 
it  until  the  next  day,  when  I  asked  Hoyt  if  he 
had  received  it,  to  which  he  replied  that  he 
had;  I  never  saw  Mrs.  Myers  in  any  room  in 
my  house  except  the  parlor,  although  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Myers  boarded  at  the  Exchange  for 
several  days  together ;  Mr.  Robinson  never 
told  me  that  they  had  improper  meetings 
that  I  remember,  but  I  have  heard  so  much 
that  I  hardly  recollect;  I  have  no  recollec¬ 
tion  of  anybody’s  telling  me  of  suspicious 
meetings  of  these  parties,  except  what 


10  TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


Mr.  Mosby  told  me,  as  already  related. — 
[Asked  how  the  warrant  came  to  be  issued  at 
his  request,]  said.it  wa6  amistake;  Mr.  Wick¬ 
er,  the  coroner,  sought  me  and  inquired  what 
I  knew  about  the  matter,  and  upon  my  tell¬ 
ing  him,  issued  his  warrant  without  my  hav¬ 
ing  anything  to  do  with  it;  I  did  not  tell  Mr. 
Robinson  that  Mrs.  Boyden  refused  to  be  in¬ 
troduced  to  Mrs.  Myers,  on  account  of  what 
had  occurred  between  her  and  Mr.  Hoyt;  do 
not  know  that  the  request  was  ever  made. 
(Questioned  closely:)  I  believe  there  was 
something  of  the  kind,  but  really  I  have 
heard  so  much,  that  I  do  not  know  exactly 
what  did  occur. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Hoge,  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  was  then  called  and  sworn.  I  was 
out  of  town  when  the  occurrence  took  place 
and  did  not  return  until  Wednesday  last; 
board  at  the  Exchange;  heard  that  Iloyt 
wished  to  see  me,  and  called  on  him  imme¬ 
diately;  the  conversation  I  held  with  him  re¬ 
lated  altogether  to  his  spiritual  condition;  am 
satisfied  that  he  died  a  firm  believer  in  the 
truths  of  Christianity ;  asked  him  if  he  had 
ever  been  an  Infidel;  said  he  never  had;  was 
in  the  room  most  of  the  day  Wednesday,  and 
had  repeated  conversations  with  him  of  short 
duration;  asked  him  if  he  would  join  mein 
prayer;  he  paused  a  moment,  and  said  he 
had  not  the  slightest  objection;  think  he  ut¬ 
tered  amen,  once  or  twice  during  the  prayer, 
but  cannot  be  certain;  lie  exhibited  little  ex¬ 
citement,  though  I  thought  he  was  laboring 
under  deep  feeling;  observing  him  to  be  rest¬ 
less,  I  asked  him  if  I  could  do  anything  for 
him :  he  replied  very  feelingly,  “  no  sir,  all 
that  I  want  now,  is  that  peace  no  earthly 
friend  can  give;”  saw  a  bible  lying  on  his 
table  near  the  bed;  he  seemed  perfectly  calm 
and  collected,  and  entirely  in  his  senses. 

The  Rev.  Wji.  Norwood,  Rector  of  Saint 
Paul’s  Church  was  then  sworn.  I  was  with 
Hoyt  repeatedly  in  his  last  days;  did  not  go 
to  fearri  anything  of  this  affair;  I  sought  only 
to  call  him  to  repentance;  he  volunteered  to 
me  some  remarks  relative  to  this  affair;  on 
last  Saturday  week  he  spoke  as  if  he  had 
strong  hopes  of  recovery,  although  he  was 
aware  that  he  was  in  great  danger;  for  I  told 
him  that  the  doctor  said  so;  he  seemed  al¬ 
ready  aware  of  it;  he  stated  to  me  that  the 
circumstances  occurred  on  the  morning  of 
the  28th,  exactly  as  they  have  been  detailed 
to  you.  1  understood  him  that  when  the  at¬ 
tack  was  made  he  sprung  up  from  the  bed, 
and  retreated  to  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
when  he  thought  he  received  the  wounds; 
when  I  paused  to  him  in  my  remarks  on  the 
subject  of  religion,  he  frequently  assured  me 
of  his  innocence  of  any  criminal  connection 
with  Mrs.  Myers;  he  said  with  great  feeling, 
that  their  conduct  had  been  very  imprudent, 
and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  checks  as  he 
said  so;  but  that  I  might  rely  upou  it,  what¬ 
ever  appeared  to  the  contrary,  that  he  was 
innocent  of  any  criminal  connection;  I  said 


to  him,  you  must  know  that  such  a  flirtation, 

I  did  not  like  to  call  it  by  a  harsher  name,  is 
calculated  to  madden  almost  any  husband, 
and  drive  him  to  do  what  Mr.  Myers  has 
done,  to  which  he  fully  assented,  as  I  under¬ 
stood;  for  he  then  said,  I  have  thought  of  this 
matter,  and  will  not  revenge  myself  on  Mr. 
Myers  if  I  should  recover;  he  repeatedly  as¬ 
serted  that  he  was  innocent;  he  was  certainly 
no  atheist;  in  the  last  conversation  I  had 
with  him,  he  said  he  was  looking  to  God,  and  j 
trusted  to  the  merits  of  his  Redeemer  for  the  ; 
salvation  of  his  soul;  he  said  he  had  been 
brought  up  to  respect  religion,  and  to  go  to 
church ;  that  he  had  neglected  it  too  long,  and 
that  he  regretted  this  affair  because  it  might 
have  the  effect  of  preventing  him  from  doing 
so. 

W.  J.  Anderson,  sworn.  I  am  of  the 
firm  of  W.  &  E.  Carpenter  &  Co.  living  iu 
the  tenement  at  the  lower  corner  of  the  Ex¬ 
change.  On  the  morning  of  the  28th,  I  was 
aroused  by  the  report  of  the  servaut,  that  the 
Messrs.  Myers  were  going  towards  Mr. 
Hoyt’s  room;  when  I  got  up  and  looked  out 
of  the  window,  Mr.  Wm.  R.  Myers  was  get¬ 
ting  into  the  hack  at  the  corner  of  the  Ex¬ 
change.  I  did  not  see  any  body  with  him; 
but  he  told  the  hackman,  to  drive  up  the  Main 
Street,  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

[Here  it  was  announced  that  the  Common¬ 
wealth  was  through  her  testimony  for  the 
present;  and  the  Defence  proceed  to  call  their 
witnesses. 

Major  Pollard,  the  father  of  Mrs.  Myers 
was  first  called  to  the  stand.  Mr.  Scott  hand¬ 
ed  him  a  letter  and  asked  if  he  knew  anything 
■about  it.  He  said  that  it  was  a  letter  ad¬ 
dressed  to  Mrs.  Myers  whilst  she  was  at  his 
house  in  June,  which  he  bad  taken  out  of  the 
post  office  about  the  23d  of  June. 

Here  Mr.  Mayo  rose  and  asked,  “  for  what 
purpose  is  that  letter  offered  heie?  The 
prisoners  are  charged  with  committing  a  hom¬ 
icide.  The  committing  magistrate  is  not  to 
distinguish  between  the  degrees  of  homicide, 
and  therefore  testimony  which  does  not  go  toi 
disprove  the  act  altogether,  or  at  least  to 
show  that  it  was  a  justifiable  homicide,  is  ir¬ 
relevant  at  this  stage  of  the  proceeding.  Even 
if  this  letter  were  fit  evidence  in  mitigation 
of  the  offence,  it  would  be  without  the  pale  of 
your  honor’s  notice ;  but  the  law  declares  1  hatl 
if  the  blood  has  had  time  to  cool  between  the 
provocation  and  the  offence,  the  provocation!1 
shall  not  be  even  pleaded  in  extenuation. 
But  this  offence  was  committed  on  the  28th 
of  September,  and  this  letter  is  dated  on  the 
19th  of  June— how  then  can  it  be  relevant  to1 
this  cause? 

Mr.  Lyons  rose  to  reply—  the  Mayor  in¬ 
terrupted  him  to  say  that  he  had  determined 
to  receive  all  the  evidence  that  might  be  ot¬ 
tered,  reserving  to  himself  the  privilege  of  re-1 
gardtng  only  what  he  considered  legal,  ini 
making  up  his  opinion.  Mr.  Mayoyieldud  to 
the  decision  of  the  Court;  but  Mr.  Lyons 


TEIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


Nevertheless  proceeded  with  a  splendid  burst 
of  eloquence,  that  electrified  the  audience  and 
so  enwrapped  our  attention,  as  to  make  us 
forget  our  notes.  It  is  impossible  that  we  can 
do  him  justice.  He  claimed  the  right  to  in¬ 
troduce  testimony  to  show  the  nature  of  the 
provocation  his  client  had  received.  In  the 
name  of  humanity,  in  the  name  of  common 
justice,  in  the  name  of  the  law  itself,  he  denied 
that  there  was  any  principle  in  the  books  that 
would  debar  him  from  this  privilege.  What, 
was  he  to  measure  time  by  grains  and  say 
when  a  man’s  blood  would  cool  under  such 
a  wrong  as  this?  He  would  not  go  to  the 
books  to  find  this  out,  but  he  would  appeal  to 
every  husband  in  that  assembly,  to  say  how 
long  a  man  must  bear  an  indignity  of  this 
kind  to  get  so  used  to  it  that  he  would  re¬ 
flect  calmly  and  coolly  upon  the  act  which 
robs  him,  at  once,  of  wife,  home,  honor,  and 
reputation.  He  claimed  the  right  to  intro¬ 
duce  evidence  to  disprove  some  of  the  dying 
statements  of  Hoyt,  and  thereby  discredit  the 
whole  of  them ;  upon  which  alone  the  Com¬ 
monwealth  could  hope  to  rest  this  prosecution. 
Throw  out  this  evidence,  and  who  could  say 
that  when  these  parties  went  to  Hoyt’s  room, 
it  was  not  for  amicable  adjustment?  Who 
can  say  how  the  affray  commenced?  This 
deed,  if  done  at  all  by  his  clients,  may  have 
been  done  in  the  heat  of  blood  upon  sudden 
provocation,  or  it  may  have  been  done  in  self 
defence.  Therefore,  it  was  most  important 
that  they  should  be  allowed  to  introduce  evi¬ 
dence  to  show  that  Hoyt  was  unworthy  of 
belief,  and  by  this  letter,  and  this  testimony, 
he  expected  to  prove  this  fact.  He  expected 
to  prove  notwithstanding  this  man’s  solemn 
protestations  of  his  innocence,  under  all  the 
solemnity  of  religious  rites,  that,  regardless 
alike  of  the  rights  of  the  parent  or  the  hus¬ 
band,  he  had  followed  this  woman  into  the 
sacred  s;  nctuary  of  her  father’s  house,  and 
sought  to  debauch  her,  morally  at  least,  in 
that  sacred  asylum.  That  when  appealed  to 
by  that  father  to  spare  his  child,  to  spare  the 
honor  of  his  house,  he  promised  to  desist 
*rom  his  unhallowed  purposes,  and  before  the 
snd  of  another  day,  before  the  lie  had  died 
upon  his  lips,  the  relentless  seducer  was  at  his 
roul  work  again.  He  felt  warmly;  no  man 
who  was  a  husband  and  a  father  could  feel 
)therwise,  but  aside  of  all  feeling,  he  solemnly 
relieved  that  the  law  did  not  deny  him  the 
privilege  that  he  claimed.  Mr.  Scott  also 
iddressed  the  Court  in  a  very  eloquent  man- 
ler  on  the  same  side,  and  Mr.  Mayo  replied. 
He  said  that  he  was  surprised  at  the  excite- 
nent  of  his  friend,  but  that  the  case  in  which 
le  was  engaged  was  such  a  one  that  no  man 
;ould  be  embarked  in  it  without  feeling  deep- 
y.  God  knows  he  felt  it  himself  as  deeply 
is  any  man;  but  he  wanted  this  and  every 
)ther  case  in  which  he  was  engaged,  to  be 
lecided  by  law  rather  than  feeling.  When  he 
lesired  to  exclude  illegal  evidence,  he  did  so 
because  he  considered  the  safety  of  the  citi¬ 


ii 

zen  only  to  be  secured  by  a  strict  adminis¬ 
tration  of  the  laws  of  the  land.  He  disputed 
many  of  the  principles  laid  down  by  his  friends 
on  the  other  side,  but  he  did  not  dispute  their 
right  to  use  this  paper  for  some  of  the  pur¬ 
poses  indicated,  and  if  they  had  only  explain¬ 
ed  themselves  when  he  first  asked  what  use 
they  intended  to  make  of  the  letter,  although 
not  altogether  formal,  he  would  not  have  ob¬ 
jected  to  its  being  read.] 

Major  Pollard  now  proceeded  with  his 
testimony.  He  said:  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Myers 
came  to  see  me  at  my  house  in  Nelson  in  J  une 
last.  My  wife  informed  me  that  she  had  de¬ 
tected  Mrs.  Myers  in  writing  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Hoyt,  in  the  city  of  Richmond.  We  agreed 
that  it  was  better  to  let  this  letter  go,  and  in¬ 
tercept  the  answer.  I  attended  the  office  my¬ 
self  for  that  purpose,  and  took  a  letter  out 
directed  apparently  in  a  lady’s  hand,  to  Mrs. 
My  ers,  after  she  and  her  husband  had  gone 
tovisit  some  of  her  relations  in  Nelson.  I 
opened  it  and  found  it  of  a  most  improper 
character  for  any  gentleman  to  write  to  a 
married  lady.  I  went  down  immediately  to 
Richmond — that  is,  I  got  the  letter  about  the 
2.'ld,  and  arrived  in  Richmond  on  the  25th.  I 
brought  this  letter,  the  one  now  exhibited  in 
Court,  along  with  me.  I  found  Hoyt  late 
in  the  evening.  I  said  to  him,  This  is  Mr. 
Hoyt,  I  believe ;  I  wish  to  have  some  private 
conversation  with  you,  sir.  He  asked  me  to 
his  room;  I  went;  I  said,  Sir,  I  am  the  father 
of  Mrs.  Myers;  I  have  intercepted  such  a  let¬ 
ter  from  you  to  her  as  no  gentleman  would 
write  to  a  married  lady.  He  said  what  letter? 
I  know  of  no  letter.  I  produced  it.  He  said 
Well,  sir,  you  see  that  that  letter  is  in  answer 
to  one  that  I  received.  I  answered,  Yes, 
sir,  that  is  plain  enough.  He  then  said  he 
looked  on  Mrs.  Myers  as  a  sister — that  he 
would  sacrifice  his  life  to  serve  her,  and  prom¬ 
ised  me  that  their  correspondence  should  be 
discontinued.  I  told  him  that  nothing  but  a 
desire  on  my  part  to  keep  the  matter  quiet, 
for  the  sake  of  my  family,  induced  me  to  deal 
thus  lightly  with  him;  but  that  he  must  stop 
all  communication  with  Mrs.  Myers,  and  that 
hereafter  he  must  not  recognize  her  when  he 
met  her.  This  I  repeated  two  or  three  times, 
and  he  repeatedly  promised  me  it  should  be 
done.  I  left  him — the  next  evening  he  came 
to  my  room,  and  said  it  might  look  curious 
for’him  to  cease  even  to  recognize  Mrs.  Myers 
and  asked  if  that  were  necessary.  I  said  I 
supposed  not,  but  that  the  communicaton 
between  them  must  go  no  further — he  pro¬ 
mised  that  it  should  not — he  proposed  that  I 
should  give  him  the  letter  that  I  had,  and  he 
would  produce  the  one  to  which  it  was  an  an¬ 
swer,  and  we  would  burn  them  both — I  an¬ 
swered  that  I  would  be  down  again  in  a  week 
or  two,  and  would  let  him  know.  I  was  de¬ 
tained  in’ town  the  next  day,  and  about  dusk 
as  I  was  standing  in  the  Rotunda  of  the  Ex¬ 
change  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  my 
son-in-law,  Mr.  Myers,  who  came  up  to  me, 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


12 

and  told  me  that  he  and  his  wife  had  return¬ 
ed  from  Nelson,  and  were  both  stopping  at 
the  Exchange.  I  went  to  the  parlor  to  see 
my  daughter,  and  there  I  found  her  with  Hoyt 
by  her  side;  and  nobody  else  in  the  room. 
He  moved  suddenly  away  as  I  approached.  I 
was  very  much  exasperated,  but  had  no  op¬ 
portunity  of  speaking  to  him  that  night — 
the  following  morning  I  called  on  him  early, 
and  had  him  roused  from  his  bed.  AVhen  he 
was  dressed  he  came  out  on  the  pavement  and 
I  reproached  him  with  his  treachery.  He 
said  I  was  mistaken ;  that  he  had  not  even 
been  conversing  with  Mrs.  Myers  on  the  pre¬ 
ceding  evening.  I  told  him  that  if  this  thing 
was  persisted  in,  and  a  sepraation  produced 
between  my  child  and  her  husband,  I  would 
have  my  revenge  even  at  the  risk  of  my  life, 
and  I  would  keep  the  letter  - that  it  might 
plead  my  justification,  in  case  was  forced  to 
kill  him.  That  if  he  killed  me,  I  had  sons 
who  would  follow  it  up  to  the  remotest  cor¬ 
ners  of  the  earth. 

I  went  home,  and  heard  nothing  more  of 
the  matter  until  I  got  a  letter  from  Col.  My¬ 
ers,  in  Sept,  asking  me  to  come  to  Richmond 
and  intimating  what  had  occurred.  I  came 
down,  and  told  him  what  had  happened  in 
June.  I  might  have  told  him  of  the  letter, 
but  don’t  think  I  ever  showed  it  to  him  until 
after  Hoyt  was  shot.  I  carried  my  daughter 
up  home  with  me. 

[The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  letter  ex¬ 
hibited  to  Mr.  Pollard,  and  identified  by  him 
as  the  one  he  intercepted  from  Hoyt  to 
Mrs.  Myers.] 

Thursday  Evening,  18th  June. 

My  dearly  loved  Virginia — While  lying 
on  my  couch,  where  I  had  been  for  some  two 
hours,  thinking  of  thee,  much  to  my  surprise 
arid  delight,  your  dear  ’sweet  letter  of  the 
13th  inst.,  was  handed  me  ;  little  did  I  think 
while  inviting  sweet  thoughts  of  thee,  I 
should  so  soon  have  words  before  me  traced 
by  thy  loved  hand,  fresh  from  thy  heart,  and 
you  may  well  imagine  what  pleasure  the  sur¬ 
prise  of  the  receipt  of  your  loved  letter  gave 
me.  You  tell  me  my  letter  must  be  placed 
in  the  Post  Office  Thursday  Afternoon,  to 
reach  you  on  Saturday,  and  it  was  past  7  o’c. 
when  I  received  your  letter,  The  mail  leaves 
in  the  morning  at  8  o'c.,  so  you  sec  I  have 
but  little  time  to  write,  but  that  little  shall  be 
devoted  to  thee,  my  precious,  dear  one,  for 
you  well  know  my  time  is  never  as  pleasantly 
passed  as  when  devoted  to  my  loved  Virginia. 
Yon  cannot  conceive,  darling,  the  pleasure 
your  letter  has  given  me,  tho’  parts  of  all 
your  letters  give  me  pain — I  hope  tho’  the 
time  is  not  far  distant  when  letters  from  you 
will  contain  nothing  but  what  is  pleasure  for 
you  to  write  and  for  me  to  read. 

Your  dear,  sweet  letter,  darling,  does  give 
me  “  proof  beyond  doubt”  how  devotedly  you 
are  mine  ;  aud  more  proof  I  cannot  give 
that  I  am  yours  devotedly,  tho’  ’tis  a  pleasure 
for  me  to  reiterate  all  that  I  have  said,  you 


well  know,  dearest  one,  how  you  are  loved 
by  me,  and  I  know  sufficient  of  thy  dear 
heart  to  satisfy  me  that  you  do  deserve  all 
my  affection,  and  I  once  more  tell  you  ’tis 
all  yours,  no  division  shall  be  made  in  it,  ’tis 
all  thine,  loved  one,  keep  it,  cherish  it — and 
thee  it  will  never  forsake.  ’Tis  entwined 
around  thy  precious  heart,  too  strong  ever  to 
be  severed  ;  be  satisfied  of  this  my  precious' 
loved  Virginia.  Have  no  doubt  of  me,  dar¬ 
ling,  there  is  no  cause  for  it,  you  have  a  hold 
on  my  affection  which  you  can  always  retain 
if  you  choose,  ’twill  not  leave  till  bid  by  thee. 

Your  loved  letter  tells  me  we  are  soon  to 
meet  again,  and  happy  will  be  that  moment, 
when  I  can  again  look  on  that  sweet  face  and 
press  to  these,  thy  ruby  lips,  and  Oh !  that 
when  we  do  meet,  we  could  remain  together 
never  to  be  separated.  You  ask,  how  I  can 
refuse  to  make  you  happy  ?  You  well  know 
dearest  Virginia,  how  anxious  I  am  to  make 
you  a  happy  woman,  and  I  would  willingly 
give  my  life  to  accomplish  it — would  that  but 
do  it.  You  can  but  know,  that  it  is  not  an 
easy  matter  to  accomplish  all  we  wish,  when 
we  meet  we  will  have  a  long  talk  on  this  sub¬ 
ject  so  necessary  to  oui  mutual  happiness. — 
Loved  one,  how  can  you  fancy  that  I  think 
you  would  not  be  hind  to  me, — kind  to  me, 
you  could  not  be  otherwise,  this  I  am  satis¬ 
fied  of,  Virginia.  And  Virginia,  there  is  not 
an  hour  that  I  do  not  wish,  what  we  have  so 
long  been  anxious  for,  could  be  brought 
about.  Reflect  on  my  conduct,  does  it  not 
prove  this  ?  You  well  know  it  does  ;  you 
must  know  it.  Continually  am  I  wishing  you 
were  mine,  mine  alone — my  whole  thoughts 
are  to  accomplish  this,  dear  love,  this  subject 
is  never  out  of  my  mind,  and  never  shall  be 
till  thy  happiness  is  complete  ;  I  know  my 
loved  one,  I  could  make  you  happy  at  once, 
but  in  doing  this  I  am  anxious  that  every 
thing  should  be  so  arranged  that  this  happi¬ 
ness  should  continue.  Y'ou  have  had  sorrow- 
enough  darling,  and  in  making  a  change,  I 
want  all  to  be  sunshine,  no  clouds  or  dark 
spots  before  you.  Do  you  not  agree  with  me  j 
that  this  would  be  best  love  ?  Soon  we  w  ill 
talk  this  all  over,  and  you  will  be  satisfied 
that  I  am  anxious  to  make  you  perfectly  ' 
happy. 

Dearest  Virginia,  can  you  think  for  a  mo-  < 
ment  that  my  love  is  not  “  sufficiently  strong” 
for  any  trials  whatever.  If  I  could  accom¬ 
plish  your  perfect  happiness,  I  would  care  not  - 
for  my  happiness,  yours  is  all  that  I  look  to,  ! 
your  being  happy  would  make  me  so,  doubt  i 
not  my  love.  I  beg  of  you,  dear,  you  must 
know  that  you  are  the  only  being  I  ever  did 
love,  why  doubt  me  then  ?  I  doubt  thee  not, 
darling  !  Why  darling  should  I  tell  you  that 
1  love  you  if  I  do  not  ?  What  am  1  to  gain 
by  it  ?  I  do  love  you,  and  love  to  tell  you  so.  I 
I  was  in  hopes,  loved  one,  when  you  got  with 
your  mother  and  family,  you  would  have  . 
been  less  miserable,  but  it  sectns  there  is  no 
change.  Now  I  beg  of  you,  try  all  in  your 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


power  to  be  less  miserable  during  your  stay 
away  from  me,  and  do  not  indulge  in  such 
awful  thoughts  as  you  often  do.  Did  you  re¬ 
flect  how  miserable  you  would  leave  me  dear¬ 
est,  were  you  to  carry  out  with  your  own 
hands  what  you  speak  of?  Oh  !  I  beg  of  you, 
banish  from  your  mind  such  awful  thoughts. 
Loved  darling,  I  think  it  best  that  your  dear 
mother  should  know  of  your  misery,  of  this, 
you  can  best  judge  with  your  dear  sister. — 
You,  my  precious  loved  one,  you  must  not 
And  fault  with  me  for  sending  so  short  a  let¬ 
ter,  you  see  I  have  had  but  little  time  to  write. 
Your  letter  was  post  marked  the  17th,  tho’ 
written  on  the  13th,  and  had  I  time  you 
should  have  one  of  my  long  letters.  I  have 
been  interrupted  frequently  ’  since  I  com¬ 
menced  this,  and  'tis  now  late,  pardon  me  for 
its  shortness,  won’t  you  love?  for  you  know 
when  I  have  had  the  opportunity,  I  have 
given  you  long  letters;  you  forgive  me  for 
this  short  one,  love,  I  know  you  do,  I  almost 
fancy  I  hear  those  sweet  lips  say  yes.  How 
I  do  wish  I  could  be  with  you  in  the  country, 
could  we  but  pass  a  few  days  together,  your 
friends  would  still  say  “  how  changed.”  Once 
more  I  must  tell  you  that  I  love  you  dearly, 
last  night  I  had  a  sweet  dream  of  thee ;  could 
you  but  know  all  my  thoughts,  you  would 
say  my  love  was  equal  to  yours,  precious  an- 
geL  Now  darling,  pray  forgive  me,  I  really 
have  not  had  time  to  review  the  half  of  your 
dear  kind  letter,  and  if  I  am  not  allowed  an¬ 
other  opportunity  to  write  you  during  your 
absence,  it  shall  be  done  in  person  when  we 
meet,  and  that  sweet  meeting  will  soon  come 
I  hope,  though  you  tell  me  ’tis  yet  twelve 
days  off,  I  hope  tho’  twill  be  shortened.  Dar¬ 
ling,  dear  darling,  it  really  grieves  me  to  send 
you  so  short  a  letter,  when  I  know  you  ex¬ 
pect  a  long  one,  and  to  make  up  the  defici¬ 
ency,  you  must  read  such  words  as  please  you 
twice.  Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to 
your  dear  sister.  Give  me  one  dear,  sweet, 
long  kiss,  in  imagination,  and  believe  me 
yours  truly  and  sincerely,  - . 

[The  commonwealth’s  attorney  here  ob¬ 
served,  that  since  that  letter  had  been  read, 
it  was  but  fair  that  the  court  and  the  public 
should  see  the  one  to  which  it  was  an  answer. 
He  held  in  his  hand  a  budget  of  letters  found 
amongst  the  papers  of  Hoyt,  which  he  had 
obtained  from  his  friend  and  representative. 
The  counsel  for  the  accused  made  no  objec¬ 
tion;  indeed  they  declared  that  they  were 
anxious  that  the  whole  should  come  out,  and 
Mr.  Mayo,  the  handwriting  having  been  ad¬ 
mitted  to  be  that  of  Mrs.  Myers,  proceeded  to 
read  the  following  letter.] 

Alta  Vista,  June  13. 

It  has  been  but  three  days,  my  beloved  one, 
since  we  parted;  but  in  that  brief  time,  alas! 

I  have  endured  years  of  misery — suffered,  my 
God!  words  cannot  the  half  of  it  express. 

I  told  you,  dearest,  it  would  be  impossible  for 
me  to  write  you,  but  I  am  actually  so  miser¬ 
able,  so  wretched,  that  my  very  very  life  de¬ 


lft 

pends  on  writing  you,  my  angel,  and  I  feel 
that  I  cannot  support  existence,  unless  I  can 
enjoy  the  sweet  privilege  of  telling  you,  dar¬ 
ling,  every  thought,  every  feeling  of  this  de¬ 
voted,  adoring  heart.  I  must  write  you,  dear¬ 
est,  even  if  it  cost  me  my  soul,  my  breath; 
for  were  I  not,  I  should  die.  To  live  tvhen 
away  from  you,  love,  without  the  sweet  inter¬ 
change  of  affection,  is  worse  than  death;  for 
my  very  bosom  is  torn  with  wretchedness, 
when  separated  from  you,  and  the  only  means 
by  which  I  can  live,  thus  divided,  is  to  write 
you,  dear  one,  and  tell  you  how  I  love  you. 
Oh!  darling,  precious  darling,  does  not  this 
very  act  show  you  beyond  a  doubt,  how  devo- 
1  tedly,  how  entirely  I  am  yours?  My  God! 
dearest,  never  has  a  mortal  loved  like  me;  for 
I  believe  it  is  impossible  for  a  human  heart 
to  contain  such  burning,  fervent,  unbounded 
love — passionate,  fervent,  ardent,  far  beyond 
the  power  of  language  to  express.  Oh! 
dearest,  how  I  long  for  words  to  tell  you  how 
I  love  you;  for  I  am  sure,  did  you  know  all 
the  idolatrous  love  of  this  bosom,  you  would 
say  I  deserve  all,  all,  of  your  blessed  affec¬ 
tions,  to  me  more  precious,  more  necessary 
to  life  than  the  very  air  I  breathe;  for,  as  I 
could  not  live  without  air,  so  the  same  way  I 
should  die  deprived  of  thy  dear  love.  Oh! 
dearest,  love  you?  I  actually  love  you  to 
that  degree  that  my  very  life  depends  on  it. 
You  know,  dear  one,  that  I  cannot  exist  with¬ 
out  you.  Oh!  dearest,  dearest  angel,  my 
heart  is  breaking,  bursting,  with  love  for  thee. 
It  is  impossible  for  me  to  remain  as  I  now 
am  any  longer.  I  cannot,  cannot  live  with¬ 
out  thee  always  beside  me.  Oh !  dear  love, 
tell  me  how  it  is  that  you  can  refuse  to  make 
me  happy,  when  you  see  my  life  depends  on 
it.  Dearest,  when  wc  meet  you  will  no  long¬ 
er  refuse.  Will  you,  mine  own,  mine  only 
one?  Remember,  I  look  to  you  for  happi¬ 
ness;  for  you  are  the  only  living  creature 
who  can  make  me  happy,  and  oh !  darling, 
do  not  I  pray  you,  do  not  refuse.  Dearest,  I 
entreat  you  reflect  well  on  what  I  said  to  you 
when  we  last  met,  and  above  all,  sweet  one, 
remember  my  happiness  hero  and  in  a  future 
world  depends  on  you.  Beloved  one,  did  you 
only  know  how  I  love  you,  you  would  not 
hesitate.  Perhaps,  dear  one,  you  think  1 
would  not  be  kind  to  you — would  not  make 
you  happy.  Oh!  mine  angel,  kind  did  Isay? 
that  cold  word  cannot  tell  you  half  the  devo¬ 
tion,  the  tenderness,  with  which  I  would  ren¬ 
der  thee  so  happy.  Yes,  sweet  one,  I  would 
watch  over  thee  with  all  the  anxiety,  the  dear 
aff  ection  with  which  the  mother  tends  the  in¬ 
fant  of  her  bosom.  Every  joy,  every  sorrow 
should  be  shared  by  her  who  has  given  you 
all,  all  she  has  in  this  world,  and  that  is  her 
whole,  entire  heart.  Dear  one,  in  prosperity, 
in  adversity,  I  would  be  always  the  same  de¬ 
voted,  confiding  being  which  you  know  me 
now  to  be.  In  the  sunshine  of  prosperity : 
then  I  would  share  all  thy  joy  and  gladness, 
and  should  darkness  or  sorrow  oppress  thee. 


14  TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


♦ 

then,  sweet  angel,  in  that  hour  would  my  love 
shine  out  in  all  its  brightness;  then  would  I 
sit  beside  thee,  dearest,  and  with  love  like 
that  of  heaven,  would  I  chase  away  all  gloom. 
Thy  dear  head  should  rest  on  this  fond  bo¬ 
som,  and  pilfcwed  there,  beloved,  would  you 
be  unhappy?  Dear,  adored,  precious  one, 
can  you  doubt,  for  an  instant,  that  I  would 
make  you  happy?  Only  think,  darling, 
what  love  I  have  for  you,  and  oh!  then 
doubt  is  impossible.  And  think  too,  dearest, 
it  is  in  your  power  to  make  me  the  happiest 
of  mortals.  Oh!  what  bliss  would  be  mine, 
always  with  you,  dearest.  Then  I  should 
in  feeling  be  in  Heaven;  for  where  thou 
art,  darling,  there  is  paradise  to  me.  Again, 
dear  love,  I  beseech  you  think  on  all  I 
have  said  to  you,  and  if  you  lore  me  you 
cannot  refrain.  This  is  the  strongest  test 
love  can  have.  Do  you  not  think  so?  Dar¬ 
ling,  I  should  not  have  mentioned  this  sub¬ 
ject,  but  each  hour,  I  assure  you  convinces 
me  more  and  more  that  I  can  no  longer  re¬ 
main  as  I  now  am ;  but,  perhaps,  dear,  you 
hesitate,  because  your  love  is  not  sufficiently 
strong  for  this  trial.  You  dear,  perhaps,  you 
might  not  be  happy.  But  oh  !  God!  I  cannot, 
will  not  think  of  it.  I,  dearest,  am  willing 
to  give  up  everything  on  earth  lor  you— for, 
my  God!  I  love  you  better  than  the  whole 
world,  and  you,  beloved,  love  me  just  the 
same.  Oh,  I  pray  Heaven  you  do,  for  it  is 
the  only  thing  that  enables  me  to  support 
this  wretched  existence.  Darling  believe  me, 
when  I  say  it  is  impossible  for  tne  to  remain 
as  I  now  am;  I  can  no  longer  endure  the 
sorrows  I  endured,  and  I  am  sure,  dearest, 
if  you  knew  all  my  trials,  all  my  bitter  suf¬ 
ferings,  you  would  not  be  willing  for  me  to 
endure  them  any  longer.  No — your  own 
kind  heart  would  tell  vOu  it  was  more  than 
any  woman  could  endure,,and  you  would 
rescue  me  from  misery,  which,  alas !  you 
now  cannot  imagine.  Yes,  dearest,  if  you 
could  only  see  this  heart — only  know  its  utter 
wretchedness — only  know  the  trials  and  sor¬ 
rows  which  are  crushing  me  so  heavily,  you 
would  not  hesitate,  even  for  an  iustant.  Ah, 
dearest,  I  sometimes  ask  myself  will  you  ever 
know  how  much  I  love  you?  will  you  ever 
know  how  devotedly  this  heart  is  yours? 
Dear  one,  everything  shows  how  I  love  you; 
for  I  cannot  conceal  it  from  the  world;  my 
eyes  speak  volumes  of  love  to  thine;  they 
speak  in  glances  of  love  to  thee  alone,  dearest; 
and  oh!  does' not  every  action  tell  you  how  I 
idolize  you?  for  not  a  moment  do  I  cease 
to  caress  you,  away  from  you,  and  I  cannot 
live  unless  I  write  you  every  thought — by 
day  thinking  of  you  unceasingly,  and  at 
night  always  with  you  in  my  dreams. 

All  this  must  convince  you;  but  did  it  not, 
there  is  another  proof,  beyond  the  power  of 
doubt;  and  that  is,  dearest,  that  my  health 
has  been  so  affected  by  this,  dear  love;  even- 
one  who  sees  me  exclaims,  how  changed  I 
anil  and  you  know,  darling,  nothing  on  earth 


has  wrought  this  change,  save  the  deep  at¬ 
tachment  existing  between  us.  Loving  you 
as  I  do,  and  divided  by  such  obstacles,  must 
make  me  miserable,  and  this  misery  has 
made  me  ill  in  body;  bnt,  oh  God!  in  mind 
it  makes  me  the  most  wretched  of  beings. 
Dearest,  I  do  not  love  you — no — it  is  more 
than  the  word  lore  can  express — ’tis  more 
even  than  idolatry — his  a  superhuman  love 
— a  worship,  such  as  angels  worship  God  in 
heaven.  Oh!  dearest,  I  worship  you;  the 
let  lings  sfiem  to*  increase  every  day,  for  I 
now  love  you  so  much  that  I  find  I  can  no 
longer  exist  away  from  you;  I  must  be  yours, 
and  be  forever  happy;  or  else  1  must  take 
my  life  with  my  own  hands,  for  it  is  utterly 
•impossible  for  me  to  support  the  wretched 
existence  I  now  do. 

Dear  love,  I  am  the  most  unhappy  of  mor¬ 
tals;  you  do  not  know  how  miserable  I  am; 
you  sometimes  see  me  in  the  world,  apparent¬ 
ly  happy,  and  you  may  think  I  have  for  the 
inomeut  forgotten  my  sorrows — you  hear  me 
perhaps  conversing  on  different  subjects,  you 
see  my  lips  wreathed  in  smiles,  but,  ah !  dear¬ 
est,  in  those  moments  could  you  read  this 
heart,  how  different  would  all  appear  to  you? 
To  the  world,  I  shrink  from  expressing  feel¬ 
ings  too  sacred,  too  holy  for  their  unhallowed 
view — for  what  has  the  heartless  world  to  do 
with  such  love  as  mine?  I  would  not  pro¬ 
fane  it  by  their  gaze — but  in  this  heart,  dear¬ 
est  one,  there  it  glows  with  the  brightness  of 
Heaven.  Although,  mine  own  darling,  you 
see  me  in  society  apparently  cheerful,  you 
well  know  how  deceiving  it  is,  for  you  know 
all  my  misery.  Never,  never,  for  one  mo¬ 
ment  do  I  forget  it,  and  while  conversing 
with  others,  oh!  bow  far,  far  away  are  my 
thoughts.  I  am  thinking,  even  then,  of  the 
wretchedness  of  my  situation.  But  there  are 
moments,  dearest,  when  I  am  so  overcome, 
that  I  cannot  repress  my  feelings,  I  cannot 
then  even  speak  to  another;  I  am  perfectly 
abstracted;  so  miserable  that  the  very  tears 
rush  unbidden  to  my.  eyes.  Dearest  love, 
the  world  may  not  know  how. wretched  I  am, 
but  you,  mine  angel,  know  all  and  do  you 
not  pity  me?  Oh!  dear,  dear  darling,  have 
I  not  sufficient  to  make  me  wretched,  divided 
perhaps  forever,  from  one  whom  1  love  to 
adoration?  Is  not  this  misery,  misery?  but 
dearest,  you  will  make  me  happy,  won’t  yon, 
sweetest  love? 

Again,  dearest,  I  say  if  you  love  me,  you 
will  not  refuse;  for  when  you  see  my  life  de¬ 
pends  on  you,  oh  !  you  cannot  hesitate.  Oh, 
darling,  pray  for  me;  pray  God  to  support 
me  through  all  these  bitter  trials,  for  I  feel 
as  if  I  should  sink  under  them. 

Dearest,  since  we  parted,  I  have  suffered 
pangs  which  have  almost  broken  my  heart. 
Oh !  precious  love,  did  you  not  see  what  1 
suffered  during  our  last  interview?  1  uctually 
was  afraid  1  should  not  have  strength  to 
reach  my  room.  I  had  no  opportunity  of 
reading  your  dear-  note,  for  I  was  not  alone 


TRIAL  OF  MYEKS  AND  OTHERS. 


a  moment.  Oh,  my  God  !  what  a  night  I 
passed;  never,  never  can  I  forget  those  hours 
of  sleepless  agony.  During  the  whole  night 
I  never  once  closed  my  eyes;  my  pillow  was 
wet  with  the  bitterpst  tears  I  ever  shed,  and 
as  I  lay  there  awake,  thinking  of  thee,  my 
angel,  I  thought  was  there  ever  such  love  as 
mine?  ever  love  so  full  of  tenderness,  so  full 
of  passionate  devotion?  No!  no!  beloved 
one,  never  has  woman,  never  can  woman 
love  as  I  do  you. 

Oh  !  darling,  the  next  morning  with  what 
delight  did  I  read  thy  precious  words  !  With 
what  passion  were  they  pressed  to  these 
lips!  Oh!  dearest,  they  made  me  so  happy; 
for  I  am  perfectly  happy  when  1  know  you 
love  me,  and  I  am  only  wretched  because  I 
am  so  awfully  divided  from  you.  This  alone 
makes  me  miserable;  for,  dearest,  make  me 
yours,  and  earth  will  not  contain  so  happy 
a  being.  As  I  closed  your  blissfull  words  dear 
one,  and  kissed  it  for  the  last  time,  I  could 
not  restrain  a  burst  of  tears,  and  I  wept,  God 
alone  knows  with  what  agony;  for  no  hu¬ 
man  eye  was  on  me.  Darling,  I  wept,  be¬ 
cause  I  feared  you  might  not  always  love 
me;  wept  in  the  very  bitterness  of  despair, 
even,  at  the  thought;  for  the  thought  almost 
kills  rue.  Oh !  dear  one,  this  fear  it  is  which 
makes  me  so  wretched.  Sometimes,  when  I 
think  you  love  me,  I  feel  the  very  happiest  of 
mortals;  and  then  again,  when  I  think  you 
may  perhaps  cease  to  love  me,  oh !  dearest, 
in  those  moments  you  do  not  know  the 
agony,  the  anguish  of  this  bosom.  Oh  !  be¬ 
loved,  I  kneel  to  you,  I  entreat  you,  I  be¬ 
seech  you  never,  never  desert  me.  Oh, 
God !  in  that  hour  when  you  change  to¬ 
wards  me,  when  you  forsake  me,  then  life 
has  no  longer  any  charm  for  me,  and  I  shall 
not  one  instant  hesitate  to  take  with  my  own 
hands  an  existence  far  too  .wretched  for  me 
to  support.  Dearest  one,  these  words  are 
from  my  very  soul,  and  I  feel  that  this  is  to 
be  my  fate,  should  you,  my  own  darling,  de¬ 
sert  me.  Oh  angel  of  this  bosom  !  think  how 
dependent  I  am  on  thy  love  for  every  joy, 
every  hope  !  for  you  well  know  it  is  all  I  have 
in  this  world.  Think  how  desolate  and  for¬ 
saken  I  am  without  it;  and  oh  !  could  you, 
would  you  deprive  me  of  it?  Dearest,  my 
very  life  depends  on  thy  love.  Oh,  then, 
spare  me !  spare  me !  who  worship  you 
with  idolatry !  with  adoration  !  The  fear  that 
you  may  change  towards  me,  makes  me  ut¬ 
terly  wretched.  Oh  darling !  tell  me  again 
and  again,  you  will  always  love  me;  then,  then 
I  am  so  happy.  The  reason  that  this  fear 
makes  me  so  miserable,  is  that  I  know  so  well 
my  very  existence  rests  with  thy  dear  affec¬ 
tions.  On  you  I  have  placed  all  my  hopes  of 
happiness;  treasured  in  you  all  this  bosom’s 
deep  and  boundless  love  ;  and  think,  mine 
own  one,  were  you  to  desert  me,  what  a 
wreck,  what  utter  despair  would  be  my  fate  ! 
Oh  dear,  dearest  one  1  with  my  arms  closely 
twined  around  thee — with  my  lips  pressed  to 


is 

thine,  I  entreat  you,  beseech  you,  always, 
always  love  me.  Dearest,  you  remember  the 
reason  I  have  given  you  for  the  fear  I  have 
that  you  may  change  towards  me.  It  is  a 
painful  subject  to  refer  to — yet  again,  my 
angel,  I  exhort  you,  do  not,  do  not  judge  me 
wrongly.  In  my  actions,  perhaps  I  have  been 
led  away  for  the  moment  too  much  ;  but  re¬ 
member  what  has  caused  it — the  impassioned, 
unutterable,  burning  love  of  a  pure,  exalted 
bosom.  Yes,  in  the  presence  of  Heaven 
itself,  I  would  swear,  that  this  bosom  is  as 
free  from  impurity,  as  an  angel’s;  and  rather 
than  lose  that  purity,  that  delicacy,  which  I 
know  is  the  jewel  of  my  character,  I  would 
far  rather  lose  life  itself.  Oh!  precious! 
judge  me  only  by  my  heart.  You  know  its 
every  thought,  for  not  one  feeling  has  been 
concealed  from  you — every  thought  is  of  you, 
and  is  as  pure,  as  spiritual,  as  Heaven  itself. 
Oh  sutler  nothing  on  earth  to  change  you, 
darling.  Always  think  how  fervently,  how 
devotedly  I  love  you,  and  you  can  never  re¬ 
ject  a  love  so  disinterested,  so  idolatrous,  and 
dear  one,  so  confiding,  as  mine  is  for  you 
The  more  I  am  separated  from  you,  sweetest, 
the  more  miserable  I  am — now  I  am  so  per¬ 
fectly  wretched,  that  it  is  impossible  to  con¬ 
ceal  it.  Every  one  remarks  it,  and  I  can 
only  evade  it  by  complaining  of  indisposition. 
Alas  !  could  they  read  this  heart,  they  would 
see  there  was  the  malady  that  affects  both 
mind  and  body.  My  family  were  startled  at 
my  pale,  emaciated  appearance;  and  from  all  I 
receive  the  deepest,  tenderest  sympathy.  You, 
whom  I  see  often,  are  not  aware  of  the  change 
that  is  in  me ;  but  those  of  my  friends  who 
have  not  seen  me  for  a  year,  are  struck  by  the 
difference  both  in  my  appearance  and  spirits. 
I  am  convinced,  dearest,  that  if  I  suffer  much 
longer,  as  I  am  now,  I  shall  sink  under  it,  for 
’tis  more  than  mortal  can  endure  ;  my  health 
is  slowly  but  surely  declining  ;  and  although 
persons  with  whom  I  am  constantly  associat¬ 
ed,  do  not  observe  the  change,  yet  to  others 
from  whom  I  have  been  separated,  ’tis  more 
apparent.  To  no  one  have  I  spoken  of  my 

situation,  save  to  dear - .  I  have  wept 

bitter  tears;  as  I  have  told  her  all,  she  feels 
for  me  the  warmest  compassion,  as  every  one 
must  who  knows  my  sorrows.  When  we 
meet,  darling,  I  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you, 
which  I  have  no  time  to  write  you.  I  have, 
with  difficulty,  written  this  much,  for  you  can 
imagine  how  I  am  situated  here,  always  liable 
to  interruptions.  Dearest,  this  letter  must 
convince  you  how  dearly  I  love  you,  i'or  you 
know  the  difficulties  I  have  to  encounter  both 
in  writing  and  sending  ;  but  I  cannot  live 
unless  I  write  you  and  tell  you  how  fondly  I 

am  yours.  -  and  myself  have  fixed  a 

plan  by  which  I  can  send  this  letter  to  you 
and  receive  one  in  answer,  without  incurring 
the  least  risk  or  danger.  Oh  !  dearest,  how  I 
do  long  for  you  here.  The  country  looks  so 
beautiful,  and  I  often  think  how  delightful  it 
would  be,  if  I  could  only  have  you  here  with 


16 


TRIAL  OF  MYEltS  AND  OTHERS. 


me;  what  sweet  walks  we  would  have  to¬ 
gether,  and  then  too  what  delicious  moonlight 
rambles;  all  alone;  ’twould  be  the  perfection 
of  bliss;  how  eloquent!}',  in  such  a  scene, 
could  I  discourse  of  my  love  for  you;  and 
how  my  heart  would  leap  with  rapture,  to 
hear  the  blessed  words  of  affection  from  thy 
precious  lips. 

Oh!  dear  love,  will  the  day  ever  come 
when  we  shall  be  thus  perfectly  happy  ?  The 
decision  rests  with  you ;  ’tis  altogether  in  your 
power,  darling.  I  am  hoping  every  day  for 
the  time  to  be  fixed  for  my  return ;  of  course 
he  regulates  my  movements.  Oh !  dearest* 
would  that  you  might  know  how  anxious  I 
am  to  see  you;  believe  me,  I  love  you  so 
deeply  that  I  am  wretched  forever  away  from 
you;  even  with  my  own  family  I  find  no  en¬ 
joyment,  because  you  are  not  here.  I  can  be 
happy  with  no  one  save  you,  my  beloved. 
What  are  friends,  the  whole  world  to  me, 
without  thee?  ’Tis a  very  blank.  Oh!  dear¬ 
est,  all,  every  feeling  of  this  bosom  tells  me 
that  I  love  you  above  the  earth  and  all  it 
contains.  I  am  ready,  willing  to  give  up 
every  living  creature  tor  you,  dearest;  only- 
say  shall  1  do  it,  and  thus  secure  my  eternal 
happiness.  Darling,  love,  I  am  dying  to  see 
you,  and  if  I  am  not  soon  restored  to  you,  I 
do  believe  I  shall  die.  You  don’t  know  how 
I  suffer,  thus  parted  from  you,  my  angel.  If 
you  could  see  me,  as  I  often  am,  alone,  bath¬ 
ed  in  tears,  you  could  then  form  some  idea  of 
my  misery.  I  would  lose  my  senses,  were  it 
not  that  1  can  write  you  these  words  of  love ; 
they  are  a  relief  to  my  burdened  heart.  Now, 
beloved,  ’tis  near  dark,  and  I  shall  soon  be 
called  away,  so  I  must  close  this  letter  which 
I  have  written  with  such  happiness  but  not 
before  I  give  you  my  parting  request.  I 
want  you,  dearest,  to  send  me  a  dear  letter  by 
Saturday’s  mail.  Now,  in  order  for  it  to 
reach  me  on  that  day,  you  must  mail  it  on 
Thursday  afternoon.  Don’t  forget  the  time, 
for  I  would  not  be  disappointed  for  all  on 
earth.  Darling,  I  entreat  you  send  me  a  long, 
sweet  letter,  for  ’tis  all  that  can  sustain  me  in 
this  dark,  sad  absence.  Tell  me  every  feel¬ 
ing  of  thy  blessed  bosom;  tell  me  if  you  tliink 
of  me — tell  me  if  you  love  me.  Oh,  yes, 
mine  angel !  tell  me  you  still  love  me !  and 
oh,  what  happiness  will  you  not  give  me? 
Darling,  write  every  moment  you  can,  so  it 
will  be  a  long,  long  letter — for  you  know, 
dearest,  how  I  love  each  word  traced  by  thine 

own  precious  hand.  Mr.  M - -  says  now 

we  shall  leave  hereon  Monday,  the  29th,  and 
be  in  Richmond  the  next  day.  I  shall  write 
you  in  answer  to  your  letter,  and  tell  you  the 
very  day  we  reach  Richmond,  and  appoint 
setne  time  for  our  meeting  immediately  on 
my  arrival.  I  shall  have  so  much  to  tell  you, 
sweet  one;  and  oh!  won’t  it  be  a  delightful 
meeting!  ’Tis  a  long,  long  time,  dearest, 
and  really  when  I  think  of  it,  I  feel  as  if  1 
should  die — for,  darling  love,  you  can  never 
know  how  I  do  suffer  when  I  am  parted  from 


you.  My  only  hope  that  supports  me  in  this: 
I  trust  ere  long  to  be  forever  yours.  I’ve 
determined  to  speak  freely  to  my  mother  of 
my  unhappy  situation.  Do  you  think  it  will 
be  best?  Now,  my  adored  one,  again  I  tell 
you  I  love  you — yes,  love  you  so  dearly,  so 
wholly,  that  I  have  not  words  to  convey  the 
half  of  it.  Tell  me,  dearest,  do  you  too  love 
me?  Kiss  me,  sweet  darling;  do  ahvays  be¬ 
lieve  I  am  your  own,  your  devoted,  your  un¬ 
changed  love.  Mine  own  angel  will  send 
me  a  long,  kind  letter,  aud  then  when  we 
meet,  I  will  give  him  thousands  of  kisses.  I 
love  you,  dearest,  with  heart,  soul,  mind;  all, 
all,  is  yours.  Will  you  still  reject  it?  No, 
no,  dear  one! 

Good  night,  may  angels  guard  thee, 

And  bless  thy  slumbers  "light ; 

Dream  of  thine  own  Virginia; 

Good  night,  sweet  love,  good  night. 

On  the  outer  or  last  page  of  the  above,  the 
following  was  found:  Let  the  hand  writing 
imitate  that  of  a  lady.  Direct  it  to  Mrs. 
Wm.  R.  Myers,  Alta  Vista,  near  Warren  P. 
O.,  Albemarle  Co.,  Va. 

[When  this  letter  had  been  read,  the  coun¬ 
sel  for  the  accused  declared  that  it  was  neither 
right  nor  proper  to  pick  out  one  letter  from 
the  budget  and  read  that,  but  contended  that 
the  whole  should  be  given  to  the  Court.  To 
this  Mr.  Mayo  readily  assented,  and  accord¬ 
ingly  some  ten  or  twelve  more  of  these  letters 
were  read,  which,  instead  of  introducing  them 
in  the  body  of  the  evidence,  we  have  inserted 
in  an  appendix,  accompanying  them  with  ex¬ 
planatory  notes.  The  Court  then  adjourned 
to  Tuesday  morning.] 


Mayor’s  Court,  Tuesday  Oct.  13th. 
The  mayor  took  his  seat  at  10  o’clock,  and 
waited  until  quarter  before  11,  when  the  pri¬ 
soners  made  their  appearance  in  the  custody 
of  the  constable,  having  spent  the  night  in 
jail. 

Mr.  Thompson-  Tyler  desired  to  make  an 
explanation  concerning  his  testimony-  given 
in  on  Monday.  I  remember  this  morning, 
although  I  did  not  yesterday-,  that  in  the  con¬ 
versation  with  Poitaux  Robinson,  which  I 
think  was  in  the  bar-room,  about  the  middle 
of  spring,  I  said  to  him,  I  could’nt  recollect 
to  save  me  whether  the  remark/was  from  me 
or  from  him,  “it  is  certainly  strange  that  this 
lady-  should  call  here  so  frequently  after  these 
reports  are  afloat  about  her  and  Hoyt.”  I 
am  sure  the  remark  was  made  whilst  Mrs. 
Myers’s  carriage  stood  at  the  door.  I  said  1 
am  surprised  that  such  a  smart  woman  should 
go  into  the  parlor  with  Hoyt  at  any  time, 
after  these  reports.  [In  answer  to  inquiries 
propounded  by  Messrs.  Lyons  and  Scott, 
said,]  I  had  frequent  conversations  with  Ro¬ 
binson.  Mr.  R.  is  very  intimate  with  Boy- 
den.  and  frequently  when  he  has  to  go  away, 
he  leaves  Robinson  with  authority  over  the 
house.  Our  clerk  at  this  time  had,  what  wc 
familiarly  call  a  stone  in  his  bat ;  and  the 


< 


TRIAL  OP  MYERS  AND  OTHERS.  17 


house  was  consequently  in  great  confusion. 
Can’t  remember  all  I  said  to  Robinson,  or  he 
to  me.  I  will  willingly  yield  to  any  thing 
Robinson  may  remind  me  of.  Ques.  by  Ly¬ 
ons.  Did  not  a  suspicion  of  Mrs.  Myers  car¬ 
ry  you  to  the  front  door  to  see  whether  Wm. 
R.  Myers’  horse  was  there.  Ans.  No.  It’s  no 
use  to  ask  me  such  a  question  as  that,  I’ve 
got  a  wife  and  children  at  home. 

Ques.  Did  you  not  say  a  little  while  ago, 
that  you  were  surprised  that  such  a  smart 
woman  as  Mrs.  Myers  should  go  into  the  par¬ 
lor  with  Hoyt,  after  the  rumors  that  were 
i  afloat. 

Ans.  No  :  I  said  I  was  surprised  that  she 
should  go  into  the  parlor  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  but  did  not  say  any  thing  about  Hoyt. 

I  can’t  tell  where  Mrs.  Myers  was  during 
these  visits  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  or  with 
whom  she  was.  I  did  say  yesterday,  that  I 
had  no  suspicion  about  Mrs.  Myers,  and  I  say 
so  now.  I  had  no  suspicion  of  any  thing 
criminal,  but  I  thought  her  conduct  very  im¬ 
prudent.  I  said  yesterday  that  I  was  sur¬ 
prised  at  Mrs.  Myers  coming  here  and  stay¬ 
ing  in  the  parlor  with  Hoyt. 

Ques.  Are  you  sure  you  said  so  yesterday. 
Ans.  No;  I  don’t  believe  I  did.  [Here  the  wit¬ 
ness’s  statements  became  very  confused  and 
contradictory :  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
report  them,  he  seemed  to  labor  under  con¬ 
siderable  confusion  himself,  and  remarked, 

:  Mr.  Lyons,  you  can  readily  twist  a  man  up. 
Lyons  protested  that  nothingwas  farther  from 
his  intention  or  desire  than  to  entangle  or 
confuse  him.] 

Major  Pollard  was  again  called  to  the 
stand  jby  Mr.  Scott.  He  said:  On  the  even¬ 
ing  on  which  Hoyt  sought  me  in  my  room, 
to  have  some  farther  conversation  with  me  in 
June  last,  he  asked  me  if  I  was  aware  that 
Mrs.  Myers  was  a  very  unhappy  woman,  and 
that  her  husband  was  a  very  bad  tempered 
man  ;  I  answered  that  I  believed  Myers  to 
be  a  very  honorable  highminded  gentleman, 
and  a  very  devoted  husband;  if  my  daughter 
was  not  a  happy  wife,  I  was  very  sure  it  was 
her  own  fault.  [In  answer  to  questions  pro¬ 
pounded  by  Lyons, Major  Pollard  remarked :] 
I  have  always  looked  upon  Myers  as  a  highly 
honorable  man,  and  a  most  kind  and  affec¬ 
tionate  husband  ;  he  seemed  to  be  very  libe¬ 
ral  in  providing  for  his  household,  and  did 
every  thing  to  consult  my  daughter’s  happi¬ 
ness  or  meet  her  wishes.  [Asked  if  he  could 
recollect  this  morning  telling  Col.  Samuel 
Myers  about  the  intercepted  letter  before 
Hoyt  was  shot — answered :]  I  do  not  remem¬ 
ber  mentioning  the  letter,  although  from  cir¬ 
cumstances  I  have  learned  this  morning,  I 
suppose  I  must  have  mentioned  it  when  I 
came  down  on  the  23d  of  September,  cannot 
charge  my  memory  with  the  fact. 

James  R.  Pollard  was  next  called  to  the 
stand.  I  am  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Myers;  about 
the  middle  of  July,  having  been  apprised  by 
my  father  of  what  had  occurred  between  him 


and  Hoyt  a  few  weeks  before,  I  came  down 
to  Richmond  to  watch  Hoyt.  One  evening 
I  saw  him  on  the  Square,  walking  with  Mrs. 
Myers.  I  wrote  him  a  letter  next  day,  de¬ 
manding  of  him  as  a  brother,  for  the  first  and 
last  time,  to  desist  from  the  course  he  was 
pursuing,  and  told  him  if  he  did  not,  his  lifts 
would  pay  the  penalty.  In  answer  to  this, 
he  asked  for  an  interview  in  a  letter  sent  me 
through  the  post-office.  [Here  the  Attorney 
for  the  Commonwealth  made  his  appearance 
in  Court.]  Mr.  Pollard  went  on  to  say:  I 
met  Hoyt;  he  said  that  he  entertained  the 
highest  respect  for  Mrs.  Myers,  and  now  that 
he  was  aware  of  the  effect  produced  by  his 
association  with  her,  he  would  avoid  her  both 
in  public  and  private,  only  recognizing  her 
when  they  met. 

Capt.  Hunter  called  and  sworn.  Some¬ 
time  about  the  middle  of  April  I  called  at 
Myers’  house  and  asked  for  Mrs.  Myers.  I 
was  told  she  was  not  at  home :  went  over  to 
Rutherfoord’s,  and  mentioned  to  him  that  I 
should  not  visit  Mrs.  Myers  again,  since  she 
had  denied  herself  to  me,  notwithstanding  I 
saw  her  leaning  out  of  the  window  as  I  went 
up  the  street ;  Mr.  Rutherfoord  and  myself 
walked  down  about  a  square,  and  met  Hoyt, 
who  was  coming  up  Grace  street;  saw  him 
turn  back  to  the  corner  of  the  cross  street, 
and  turn  toward  Franklin ;  watched,  and  saw 
him  go  to  Myers’ ;  he  was  admitted.  This 
was  about  12  o  clock. 

B.  F.  Mosbv  was  called  to  the  stand.  I 
knew  Hoyt,  and  I  am  acquainted  with 
Mrs.  Myers;  I  have  been  living  at  the 
Exchange  about  twelve  months  ;  about  the 
1st  of  June  I  discovered  Mrs.  Myers  and 
Mr.  Hoyt  in  the  parlor  together;  she  was 
in  a  rocking-chair,  and  he  was  sitting  on 
an  ottoman,  directly  opposite  to  her ;  I 
thought  it  very  singular.  On  the  11th  of 
August  I  wanted  to  go  into  No.  18,  which  is 
generally  open,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
both  doors  locked;  I  went  into  No.  19,  just 
opposite,  waited  there,  and  saw  a  lady  come 
out  of  18 ;  being  resolved  to  satisfy  myself  as 
to  who  it  was,  I  followed  her  to  the  front 
door,  and  found  it  was  Mrs.  William  Myers; 
I  then  went  to  the  piazza  on  which  the  win¬ 
dows  of  18  open,  to  see  who  was  in  18  with 
her;  the  shutters  were  closed  on  the  inside; 
I  then  returned  to  the  passage  and  posted 
myself  in  a  position  to  command  both  the 
doors  and  the  piazza.  I  remained  some  little 
time,  and  seeing  no  one  come  out,  I  went  to 
the  door,  opened  it,  and  saw  a  man  retreat¬ 
ing  through  the  window.  That  man  was  D. 
Marvin  Hoyt.  I  immediately  went  to  Hoyt’s 
room  to  note  his  appearance;  he  seemed 
much  agitated.  I  asked  him  one  or  two 
questions  that  I  could  have  answered  myself 
as  well,  and  came  away  perfectly  satisfied.* 
I  told  Bovden  that  I  knew  Mrs.  Myers  had 


*  See  Mosby’s  statement  confirmed  in  every  parti¬ 
cular,  in  letters  from  Mrs.  Myers.  Appendix,  .too.  11. 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


18 

been  in  18  with  Hoyt,  from  personal  obser¬ 
vation,  and  not,  as  he  said  yesterday,  from 
the  evidence  of  a  servant ;  I  told  him  the  very 
night  of  the  day  he  got  back  from  Old  Point; 
if  I  were  to  tell  all  the  times  these  visitings 
to  the  Exchange  were  repeated  by  Mrs.  My¬ 
ers,  it  would  take  me  fifteen  hours  to  relate 
them.  About  four  weeks  after  the  occur¬ 
rence  in  18,  I  happened  to  go  into  the  par¬ 
lor,  where  1  found  Hoyt  reclining  on  one  of 
the  long  ottomans,  with  his  head  partially  in 
Mrs.  Myers’  lap;  I  went  out  and  felt  like  a 
rattlesnake  was  after  me;  I  told  Booker,  who 
is  now  in  New  Orleans,  of  this  circumstance, 
and  he  went  in  and  saw  them;  I  remember 
ODe  night  Mrs.  Myers  staid  very  late  at  the 
hotel;  three  or  four  weeks  ago,  I  sought  Col. 
Samuel  Myers  at  his  office,  and  told  him  of 
these  occurrences;  I  cannot  be  certain  of  the 
time,  but  I  am  sure  it  was  whilst  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liam  Myers  was  at  the  North. 

Mr.  Poitiaux  Robinson  called  and  sworn. 
The  first  lime  that  my  attention  was  attracted 
to  Mrs.  Myers’  conduct  at  the  Exchange,  I 
called  about  12  o’clock  to  take  a  snack  ;  Mr. 
Thompson  Tyler  took  me  one  side  and  said, 
what  sort  of  a  woman  can  Mrs.  Myers  be  ? 
I  received  this  rather  coldly  and  said,  why  do 
you  ask  me  ?  she  is  the  wife  of  William  R. 
Myers  of  the  house  of  Sam’l  S.  Myers  &  Co. 
He  then  told  me  to  say  nothing  about  it,  but 
he  thought  it  strange  she  should  stay  in  the 
parlor  so  long.  I  walked  down  the  passage 
and  saw  Hoyt  with  Mrs.  Myers.  I  went  home 
and  returned  to  the  Exchange  about  half-past 
two  ;  when  I  came  back  1  saw  Mr.  Myers’ 
carriage  still  at  the  side  door  of  the  Hotel  ; 
presume  she  had  been  staying  there  all  the 
morning.  I  was  the  more  surprised  at  this 
interview,  because  I  knew  that  Hoyt  had  been 
unwell,  and  had  not  been  out  ot  his  room  for 
several  days  befqre,  nor  was  he  out  again  for 
several  days  afterwards.  I  then  went  home 
and  returned  to  the  Exchange  to  dinner  about 
half-past  2  o’clock.  I  saw  Mr.  Myers’  car¬ 
riage  still  standing  at  the  side  door  of  the 
Hotel.  I  went  into  the  bar  room,  Mr.  William 
R.  Myers  came  in  and  we  took  a  drink  to¬ 
gether  ;  I  went  out  of  the  front  door  to  the 
barbers’  shop,  and  I  believe  he  accompanied 
me  down  the  steps  ;  a  day  or  two  afterwards 
I  went  up  to  Mr.  William  R.  Myers’  and 
asked  for  Mrs.  Myers.  I  was  in  the  passage 
and  she  called  to  me  from  the  landing  above. 
Is  that  you  ?  I  can’t  come  down — How  is  Mr. 
Hoyt.  I  heard  he  was  sick,  and  I  have  mis¬ 
sed  him  from  church  for  some  time.  This 
aroused  my  suspicions,  because  I  had  so  lately 
seen  them  together  in  the  parlor  of  the  Ex¬ 
change  Hotel.  I  have  seen  her  at  the  Ex¬ 
change  frequently.  Hoyt  was  generally  there, 
and  she  seemed  to  be  pleased  with  him. 
While  William  R.  Myers  was  at  the  North, 
about  the  time  those  rumors  burst  furth,  she 
came  to  the  Exchange  to  spend  the  evening. 
Seeing  her  there  at  night,  I  thought  I  would 
stay  and  go  with  her  home,  merely  for  the 


purpose  of  preventing  Hoyt  from  doing  so 
1  was  in  and  out  of  the  parlor  during  that  night 
When  the  time  came  for  her  to  go  home,  I  wen 
into  the  parlor,  and  found  her  with  her  bonnet 
on,  and  Hoyt  with  his  hat  on  and  cane  in  hii 
hand.  I  did  not  offer  my  services,  but  expect¬ 
ed  she  would  ask  me,  as  she  had  done  before 
to  accompany  her.  This  was  while  Williatr 
R  Myers  was  at  the  North,  and  Mrs.  Myen 
was  staying  at  Dr.  Cabell’s.  I  saw  Hoyt  leavt 
the  house  with  her  about  half- past  10  o'clock 
Boyden  knew  she  visited  there,  for  I  have 
spoken  to  him  of  her  frequent  visits.  I  hafl 
made  up  my  mind  to  tell  Col.  Myers  all  aboul 
these  things,  and  1  was  only  deterred  from 
doing  so  by  the  advice  of  my  friend  CoL  Ad¬ 
kins  to  whom  I  applied.  Mr.  Boyden  nevei 
told  me  that  his  wife  refused  to  be  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Myers,  nor  any  thing  of  the  sort.  The 
night  before  Hoyt  was  shot,  I  talked  to  him 
about  these  reports — he  seemed  reserved  and 
unwilling  to  speak  of  them.  I  told  him  that 
William  Myers  was  on  his  way  home  ;  he  said 
he  knew  it.  I  told  him  that  he  must  expect 
to  be  held  accountable.  He  said  he  was 
afraid  it  would  lead  to  his  destruction.  He 
said,  before  God,  this  Sabbath  night,  I  am 
innocent  of  any  criminality.  Surely  said  I, 
you  have  been  grossly  imprudent.  How  could 
you  be  so  mad  as  to  walk  home  with  Mrs. 
Myers  the  other  night,  whilst  these  rumors 
are  afloat  ?  He  answered,  I  knew  and  felt1 
that  it  was  imprudent.  I  thought  until  I  got| 
to  the  door,  that  Mrs  Myers  was  to  ride  home. 
When  I  got  to  the  door,  I  felt  the  impropriety  I 
of  my  situation,  and  remonstrated  with  her — • 
;  she  insisted  on  it  ;  what  could  I  do  ?  He  I 
added,  well,  all  that  can  ever  be  made  offit,  is 
imprudence. — I  hope  Mr.  Mvers  has  gone  te 
I  his  wife  ;  if  so,  all  may  be  explained.  -Whefl 
all  is  known,  I  shall  stand  higher  in  this  com¬ 
munity  than  Col.  Samuel  Myers  ever  did  or 
ever  will  stand.  If  I  have  a  friend  in  the 
world,  and  from  any  cause  I  should  be  found 
in  a  dying  condition,  I  will  take  it  as  a  favor 
of  him  to  interrogate  me  on  this  point,  and  1 , 
will  then,  as  I  do  now,  assert  my  innocence. 
This  was  probably  the  last  remark  he  made 
that  night. 

1  have  no  recollection  of  the  circumstance 
of  the  book  spoken  of  by  Mr.  Tyler,  in  any 
conversation  I  ever  held  with  him. 

William  Munford  called  and  sworn.  Has 
seen  Hoyt  coming  out  of  Mr.  Myers'  door' 
very  frequently,  as  he  came  from  school  about 
3  o’clock  ;  for  two  months,  say  up  to  the  mid¬ 
dle  of  May,  he  was  a  constant  visiter. 

Col.  Wythe  M oxford  sworn.  I  live  next 
dour  to  Mr.  Myers  ;  I  know  that  in  the  win¬ 
ter  especially,  he  dines  late,  and  generally 
comes  up  home  after  3  o’clock. 

[Mr.  Lyons  remarked  that  this  testimony 
was  offered  in  connection  with  that  of  CoL 
Munford's  son,  who  deposed  to  Mr.  Hoyt's 
habitual  departure  from  Mr.  Myers'  house 
about  3  o’clock.] 

Col.  Munford  continued  :  At  the  theatre 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


19 


ne  night  last  spring,  I  saw  Mrs.  Myers  and 
ter  husband  in  a  box  together  ;  I  took  a  seat 
'.y  her,  and  began  conversing  with  her.  I 
bon  found  she  paid  very  little  attention  either 
jo  me  or  the  stage.  I  was  surprised  at  this, 
ecause  her  usual  deportment  to  me  was  very 
ind.  f  observed  that  her  attention  was  en- 
rossed  by  something  on  the  opposite  side  of 
he  house  ;  upon  looking  closely,  I  discovered 
hat  Mr.  Hoyt  was  there,  (for  I  had  already 
leard  whispers  about  them.)  with  his  person 
fiostly  concealed  behind  two  other  gentlemen, 
inspecting  she  was  doing  something  she  desir¬ 
'd  to  conceal,  I  went  into  the  pit  to  watch  her 
lore  closely  ;  I  soon  discovered  that  she  was 
taking  telegraphic  signs  to  him.  In  him  I 
bserved  nothing  but  a  steadfast  gaze.  He 
hanged  his  position,  and  as  he  did,  she  turned 
er  face  towards  him.  I  have  also  seen  simi- 
ir  signs  passing  between  them  in  St  Pauls’ 
Ihurch. 

Dr.  R.  H.  Cabell  sworn — I  saw  these 
wo  letters  shown  to  Mrs.  Myers  by  Colonel 
bmuel  Myers,  in  my  house.  Col.  Myers 
onducted  himself  with  the  utmost  propriety 
nd  gentility  towards  Mrs.  Myers.  No  man 
/ould  have  acted  with  more  coolness  and  for- 
earance,  and  how  he  did  act  with  so  much 
orbearance  actually  astonished  me.  He 
ranted  Mrs.  Myers  to  go  home  to  her  father’s 
nd  offered  to  accompany  her.  One  of  the 
itters  shown  to  Mrs.  Myers  had  been  written 
hat  or  the  day  before  ;  it  was  shown  to  her. 

was  requested  by  Col.  Myers  to  hear  the 
onversation  between  Mrs.  Myers  and  him- 
elf,  which  took  place  in  my  house. 

[The  letters  to  which  Dr.  Cabell  alluded 
rere  written  to  Hoyt  by  Mrs.  Myers,  and 
/ere  intercepted  by  Colonel  Samuel  S.  Myers. 
)n  the  12th  of  September  Mosby  made  his 
ommunication  to  Col.  Myers.  After  some 
ifficulty  the  Colonel  obtained  an  interview 
rith  his  sister-in-law,  told  her  what  hekuew, 
nd  respectfully  urged  her  to  go  to  her  father 
i  the  country  until  the  return  of  his  brother. 
Ihis  she  positively  refused  to  do,  denouncing 
he  whole  story  as  a  base  slander.  On  the 
5th  Col.  Myers  ordered  Davy,  his  brother’s 
arriagc  driver,  to  bring  him  any  letters  his 
tistress  might  give  him,  either  to  put  in  the 
’ost-office  or  deliver  to  any  gentleman  in  the 
ity.  On  Wednesday,  16th,  Davy  brought 
im  one  letter  directed  to  Hoyt,  and  intended 
Dr  the  Post-office.  On  Thursday  morning 
e  brought  him  another  directed  to  Mr.  Boy- 
en.  These  letters  were  exhibited  to  Mrs. 
dyers  on  Thursday  morning,  as  Dr.  Cabell 
ells  us,  and  she  boldly  and  unhesitatingly 
ironounced  them  forgeries. 

Here  the  letters  intercepted  by  Col.  Myers 
rere  offered  to  the  Court  and  read.  They 
re  as  follows:] 

Wednesday  Morning. 

My  own  fondly  loved  one,  what  joy  ’tis 
or  me  to  write  you  and  tell  you  every  feeling 
if  this  bosom,  How  adoringly  I  love  you — 
low  eternal  is  my  affection.  Darling,  my 


greatest  happiness  is  to  feel  how  devotedly  I 
am  yours.  Does  not  every  word,  every  ac¬ 
tion  te  l  you  this?  Oh!  beloved,  could  you 
have  heai-d  and  seen  me  yesterday,  how  you 
would  prize  me.  Yes,  prize  affection  like 
mine,  which  fears  nothing,  so  long  as  I  am 
surrounded  by  the  halo  of  thy  precious  love. 
Yesterday  I  was  with  a  man  calculated  to  awe 
and  terrify  me.  I  saw  him  in  a  frenzy  of  pas¬ 
sion,  and  yet  I  remained  as  calm,  as  self- 
possessed,  as  unmoved  as  a  statue.  Dearest, 
what  was  it  that  supported  me  in  that  hour? 
What  was  it  that  enabled  me  to  act  with  such 
courage?  I  who  once  trembled  and  wept  at 
his  very  words.  It  was  thy  dear  love  which 
sustained  me.  Oh!  precious  one,  you  know 
not  how  I  love  you.  I  love  }rou  with  a  force 
of  which  I  could  not  believe  the  human  heart 
capable — I  love  you  as  never  one  human 
creature  loved  another.  You  were  to  me  like 
an  angel  of  goodness  and  kindness.  You. 
mine  own  one,  support  me  in  every  trial.  I 
feel  that  so  long  as  I  can  clasp  thee  to  my 
breast  as  mine  own  beloved  one,  I  can  endure 
any  thing — every  thing.  What  is  the  world 
to  me — what  care  I  for  friends — -what  care  I 
though  the  storms  of  sorrow  burst  upon  me; 
even  in  the  darkest  hour  of  fate  I  am  su¬ 
premely  happy.  I  see  the  storm,  yet  not 
even  one  fear — not  one  dread.  No,  in  this 
bosom  all  is  sweet,  calm,  serene  joy.  There 
is  one  who  loves  me — he  is  my  world — he  is 
my  heaven.  With  him  pressed  to  this  de¬ 
voted  heart,  I  defy  every  storm  in  life — -for 
with  him  as  my  guardian  angel  I  can  know 
naught  save  the  bliss  of  paradise.  Oh  ! 
dearest,  do  you  ever  think  how  I  love  you? 
How  unselfish,  how  devoted  is  my  love? — 
Dearest,  you  know  I  am  ready — nay,  impa¬ 
tient,  to  give  up  the  whole  world  for  you. 
Oh  God  !  that  you  would  consent  to  this — 
that  vou“would  make  me  the  happiest  of  wo¬ 
men  !  Oh !  did  you  ever  consider  how  happy 
we  could  be  together — every  hour  winging 
with  love — I  ever  near  thee  as  thy  worship¬ 
ping  and  adoring  Virginia,  anticipating  every 
wish — lavishing  on  thee  every  devotion — 
clasping  thee  in  these  arms,  and  breathing  to 
thee  these  sweet  words.  “  Treasured  darling 
of  my  soul,  thy  Virginia  is  happy — oh,  how 
happy.  She  is  thine,  and  no  power  can  take 
her  from  thee.  She  has  given  up  all  for  thee 
without  regret.  She  would  not  leave  thee  for 
all  this  world  could  offer.  She  loves  thee, 
and  she  is  happy — happy.”  My  God,  dear¬ 
est,  when  I  think  what  happiness  is  in  our 
grasp.  Oh!  how  can  you  hesitate  Did  you 
love  like  me  you  could,  not.  But  this  subject 
kills  me.  I  cannot  suffer  myself  even  to 
think  of  it.  Oh!  ’tis  distraction,  agony,  to 
think  how  happy  I  might  be — how  miserable 
I  am.  But,  no,  dearest,  I  do  not  blame  you; 

I  only  wish  you  could  think  differently. 
Dearest,  I  fear  you  hesitate,  because  you 
think  my  love  is  not  sufficient  for  this  test. 
You  fear,  perhaps,  I  might  regret  the  step 
after  it  was  taken.  Oh!  mine  own  one,  ba- 


20  TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


nish  this  thought.  My  love  not  sufficient! 
Oh!  ’tis  more  than  sufficient.  Good  God! 
you  do  not  reflect  how  I  love  you.  ’Tis  with 
a  depth,  a  strength,  a  devotion  unparalleled 
in  the  heart  of  woman.  I  cannot  realize  this 
love,  for  it  is  boundless,  unlimited;  and  with 
this  love,  could  there  be  one  regret?  No, 
never,  never Now  I  swear  to  you  I  am 
ready  to  give  up  every  thing  in  life  for  thee. 
Oh!  that  wc  could  fly  to  the  desert — any  spot 
on  the  globe  would  be  a  paradise  with  thee. 
Oh!  dear,  precious  love;  for  the  sake  of  one 
who  worships  you,  who  adores  you,  I  entreat 
you  reflect  on  this  subject,  and  make  her 
happy.  Think  that  the  happiness  of  a  being 
is  now  in  your  power,  and  oh  !  I  implore 
you  hesitate  no  more.  Dearest,  if  I  have 
said  aught  I  should  not,  forgive  me,  for  all 
has  been  uttered  with  pure,  heavenly  feelings. 
Dearest,  you  know  the  purity  of  this  heart; 
you  know  not  one  impure  thought  has  ever 
dwelt  there ;  and  so  long  as  you  know  me,  I 
care  not  for  the  world — they  may  think  of  me 
as  they  see  fit.  All  that  I  ask  is,  that  my 
dear,  loved  one  may  appreciate  me;  And, 
dearest,  what  makes  me  so  indifferent  to  the 
opinions  of  others?  ’Tis  that  my  love  for 
thee  fills  my  whole  heart;  I  have  not  one 
feeling  for  another.  I  have  but  one  wish, 
one  desire  in  life — ’tis  that  I  may  possess  thy 
love.  Oh !  dearest,  when  you  tell  me  you 
will  always  love  me,  what  joy  thrills  my  very 
soul.  Dearest  one,  tell  me  you  will  never 
give  me  up;  that  no  power  of  man  shall  se¬ 
ver  us ;  that  you  will  be  faithful  to  me  for 
ever;  tell  me  this,  darling,  and  then  I  can 
endure  every  thing.  It  will  give  me  strength 
for  every  trial.  Oh!  dearest,  my  very  heart 
congeals  at  the  thought  ;  were  you  to  forsake 
me,  what  would  become  of  me?  Oh  !  darl¬ 
ing,  is  not  this  reflection  awjul?  What  in 
the  name  of  God  would  become  of  me!  Only 
think,  I  love  not  a  human  being  save  thee. 
I  cling  to  thee  as  my  all.  My  very  heart  is 
so  entwined  with  thee,  that  to  tear  thee  from 
me  would  rend  every  heart  string.  Oh ! 
dearest,  ’tis  agony  to  dwell  on  this;  I  banish 
it  from  me;  I  know  my  angel  will  never  for¬ 
sake  me  :  Tell  me  so,  dearest,  for  these 
words  alone  sustain  me  now.  Oh '  dear  one 
I  entreat  you,  after  you  have  traversed  this 
letter,  to  reflect  on  all  I  have  done  to  prove 
my  love  for  thee.  Think  on  all,  but  espe¬ 
cially  on  the  events  of  yesterday;  that  tells 
me  how  I  love  thee,  for  it  was  divine  love 
alone  which  enabled  me  to  brave  the  passion, 
the  threats  of  such  a  man.  1,  a  poor  weak 
woman,  yet  so  strengthened  by  thy  love,  that 
1  felt  that  I  could  brave  the  powers  of  all  the 
world  for  thee.  Yes,  dearest,  think  on  all  I 
have  done,  and  then  say  has  a  woman  eyer 
loved  like  me?  A  love  so  disinterested,  for 
she  has  no  thought  of  self.  She  sees  every 
thing  torn  from  her,  and  yet  she  clings  to 
thee  throughout  as  her  heaven,  and  no  man 
has  power  to  tear  her  from  thee.  Dear  love, 
I  am  so  happy ;  I  have  thy  sweet  minature. 


Did  you  know  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me,  y< 
would  not  regret  giving  it  to  me;  I  do  wi 
you  could  see  how  I  love  even  thy  scmblanc 
every  night  the  last  thing,  ere  I  close  my  ey 
in  sleep,  is  to  press  it  to  these  lips  and  to  tl 
heart.  I  then  place  it  on  my  pillow,  and  rc 
my  cheek  on  that  dear  face.  Often  in  tl 
stillness  and  darkness  of  night,  so  overcou 
by  sleep  as  just  to  be  conscious  I  am  hi 
awake,  I  press  it  with  such  passion  to  n 
lips,  and  feel  as  if  I  never  could  give  up  tl 
pressure.  Then,  too,  I  long  for  mornin 
just  to  gaze  on  the  precious  one  of  my  sot 
Oh!  how  delicious  it  is  to  kiss  these  swe 
lips,  even  in  ivory !  Darling,  would  you  n 
like  to  have  my  miniature?  I  should  be  i 
happy  for  you  to  have  it,  as  I  know  it  won] 
be  just  such  a  comfort  to  you  as  yours  is  | 
me.  To-morrow,  dearest,  at  1  o’clock,  sei 
the  book,  and  inside  the  note,  as  we  agret 
upon.  I  shall  receive  it  myself,  so  there  will  1 
no  risk.  Dear  love,  try  and  send  me  a  lor 
note,  for  every  word  will  be  so  precious  to  m 

Since  writing  the  above,  dearest,  I  set 
Davy  to  Col.  Myers’  house,  to  see  if  the) 
were  any  letters  for  me.  Davy  tells  me  th. 
Col.  M.  was  in  close  conversation  with  a  get 
tleman,  whom  I  made  him  describe  to  me,  at 
who,  from  the  description,  is  undoubted! 
Mosby;  therefore  we  know  the  author  of  a 
he  told  me  yesterday.  1  am  suffering  agon 
now,  for  of  course  Mosby  will  tell  him  of  m 
being  at  the  Exchange,  and  God  only  know 
what  will  become  of  me.  Dearest,  could  yo 
not  fall  on  some  plan  to  let  this  Mosby  kno' 
that  you  are  aware  of  his  conduct?  it  migb 
intimidate  him.  He,  I  presume,  is  employe 
by  Col.  Myers  as  a  spy  upon  my  actions.  01 
dearest,  do  you  net  pity  me?  Tell  Boy Je 
of  all  this,  and  entreat  him  to  send  that  .Mod 
by  from  the  Exchange.  Darling,  you  knot; 
how  much  my  very  life  depends  on  seeing 
you;  therefore,  for  God’s  sake  make  somu 
arrangement  by  which  we  can  meet.  Writd 
me  on  the  subject,  and  tell  me  where  we  ca 
meet,  and  if  it  can  be  done  without  Mosby’) 
knowledge;  dearest  one,  promise  me  we  sluuf 
meet ;  my  very  existence  depeiuls  on  it.  1  bca 
you  to  tell  Boyden  every  thing ;  he  is  you 
friend,  and  perhaps  may  arrange  it  so  that  w| 
may  meet.  I  am  dreading  every  moment  J 
visit  from  Col.  M.,  and  it  has  so  unnerved 
me  that  l  cannot  write.  To-morrow  I  shalf 
have  a  note  ready  for  you.  Dear  love,  could 
we  not  meet  somewhere  else  than  at  the  Ex 
change;  for  I  am  so  afraid  to  go  there.  Dc. 
think,  and  endeavor  to  make  some  arrange  I 
inent  by  which  we  can  safely  meet.  As  I  die 
not  see  Mosby  yesterday,  I  think  he  has  em 
ployed  some  of  the  servants  about  the  hote 
as  spies.  Dearest,  farewell!  I  love  you  thi; 
moment  more  than  ever,  if  that  were  possi-t 
blc ;  for  sorrow  makes  me  cling  closer  to  thee) 
Till  to-morrow,  farewell,  beloved  darling. 

[The  following  is  the  intercepted  letter] 
addressed  to  Mr.  Boyden.] 


TRIAL  OP  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


fy  dear  Mr.  Boyden : 

'  May  I  ask  the  favor  of  you  to  deliver  the 
■closed  immediately  to  Mr.  H.  I  would 
(at  I  could  find  words  to  express  to  you  the 
any  obligations  I  am  under  to  you  for  the 
ndness  you  have  shown  me,  but  words  are 
'  t  faint  to  express  the  deep  gratitude  I  feel 
t  all  your  favors  to  me.  I  can  only  beg  you 
I  believe  me  very  gratefully  and  respect- 
lly,  Your  friend. 

\  Wednesday  Night. 

I  [The  letter  enclosed  in  the  above,  to  he 
{livered  to  “  H,”  is  without  superscription 

I  address  of  any  kind,  and  is  as  follows : 

Wednesday  Night,  11  o’clock. 
Darling  of  my  soul,  how  I  do  love  you  to 
feht,  with  a  passion,  a  devotion  words  can- 
:  t  express.  I  have  just  returned  from  Doc- 

e - ,  where  I  have  been  passing  the  day. 

.'as  !  a  gloomy  one  to  me,  for  I  was  think- 
r  every  moment  when  will  I  see  my  be- 
l/ed  darling.  The  first  thing  I  did  when  I 
ached  this  room,  was  to  fly  to  my  dear 
j  niature,  kiss  it  again  and  again,  press  it  to 
(is  bosom  with  the  same  warmth,  as  if  it 
d  been  thy  sweet  self  in  reality.  ’Tis  now 
tag  beside  me,  and  I  stop  every  moment  to 
;ass  the  dear  lips.  Darling  if  you  knew  how 
worshipped  this  picture,  you  would  know 
iw  I  worshipped  the  original.  After  send- 
g  you  my  letter  yesterday,  I  found  that  I 
is  mistaken  in  supposing  it  was  M— 
th  Col.  Myers,  it  proved  otherwise,  after- 
trds.  I  saw  Col.  Myers’  servant;  and  he 
:d  me  it  was  a  gentleman  from  New  York. 
Tis  of  course  relieves  my  mind  exceedingly; 
It  oh  dearest,  1  have  acted  so  injudiciously 
: ice.  Col.  Myers  called  here  to-day  before 

vent  to  Dr. - ,  and  I  was  compelled  to 

i  him.  He  came  to  order  me  as  he  said  to 
ive  Richmond,  and  says  “  I  shall  not  go  to 
;w  York.”  Are  there  many  women  who 
aid  stand  such  insolence  of  his  manner  fo¬ 
rds  me  ;  I  can  give  you  no  idea,  he  treats 
;  as  he  does  one  of  his  servants,  and  yester- 
lly  he  was  so  lost  in  passion  as  almost  to 
:  ike  me.  Oh !  darling  if  you  could  see  him 
ith  me,  accusing  me  of  things  which  flushes 

II  cheek  with  shame.  Could  you  see  all,  you 
■uld  not  suffer  me  to  be  in  that  room  with 
n  one  moment.  To-day  he  terrified  me  so 
it  he  made  me  promise  I  would  not  go  to 
;  Exchange — this  was  the  only  point.  I 
tided,  and  now  I  regret  it,  although  of 
■arse  I  do  not  intend  keeping  the  promise; 

;  t  he  sees  he  has  conquered  me  once,  and  it 
11  make  him  tyrannize  over  me  still  more, 
re  other  day  I  behaved  admirably — I  was 
calmness  and  refused  every  thing.  To-day 
ost  all  my  courage.  Oh  !  when  I  think  of 
his  threats,  his  insolent  orders  to  me,  I  am 
lazed  to  think  I  should  endure  it  from 
y  man.  Thank  Heaven  he  has  heard  no- 
ing  of  my  being  at  the  Exchange  lately. 
3  is  to  be  here  at  9  to-morrow  morning ;  and 
vs!  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night;  fearing  this 
ieryiew.  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  how 


21 

I  fear  this  man.  If  these  interviews  with 
Col.  Myers  continue,  it  will  be  my  death.  Dear 
love  tell  me  what  to  do-  ?  Shall  I  refuse  to  see 
him  again  ?  Darling  you  are  my  all  in  this 
world — I  cling  to  you.  Tell  me,  therefore, 
whas  course  to  pursue.  Dearest  I  am  almost 
distressed  to  death.  My  heart  feels  as  if  it 
was  broken.  Here  I  am  with  strangers,  des¬ 
olate,  alone — in  the  power  of  a  brute  of  a  man, 
who  takes  advantage  of  me.  No  one  to  speak 
with— no  one  to  sympathize  with  me— so  near 
the  only  being  on  earth  who  can  give  me  com¬ 
fort,  and  yet  cannot  see  him.  Oh  !  darling, 
I  know  you  pity  me  ?  Dearest  I  think  it  per¬ 
haps  safest  that  I  should  not  go  to  the  Ex¬ 
change  on  Friday— you  know  how  I  im¬ 
plored  you  to  see  me,  then,  therefore  you  know 
what  a  trial  ’tis  to  postpone  my  only  joy  in 
life.  I  will  come  at  1 1  o’clock  on  Monday. 
I  cannot  go  in  the  public  parlor,  for  there  is 
too  much  risk— but  you  must  get  the  room  I 
spoke  of.  Tell  Boyden  every  thing,  and  he 
will  assist  us  at  the  hour  I  come,  11.  Ask 
him  to  see  that  M.  is  not  about  the  Exchange, 
and  see  that  the  servants  are  away  too,  for 
them  I  fear.  When  I  leave  he  can  give  us 
notice,  that  there  is  no  one  about,  and  then  I 
can  go  when  he  finds  I  will  not  be  observed. 
Dearest  I  entreat  you  to  do  this,  for  it  will  he 
our  only  plan.  Now,  darling,  as  I  am  so  very 
anxious  to  know  what  arrangement  he  can 
make,  do  write  me  in  your  note  to-morrow 
what  you  think  we  had  best  do.  I  am  com¬ 
pelled  to  see  you  love,  for  life  itself  rests  upon 
it.  Now  dearest  as  I  cannot  see  you  till  Mon¬ 
day,  I  entreat  one  thing  of  you,  viz :  to  see 
me  at  church  Sunday,  morning  and  night.  As 
I  have  often  told  you,  although  I  cannot 
speak  with  you,  yet  ’tis  such  joy  just  to  gaze 
on  thee,— just  to  have  one  dear  look  from 
thee— you  need  not  have  a  fear  about  church, 
nothing  has  been  said  about  that,  and  I  have 
a  good  joke  to  tell  you,  to  prove  to  you  that 
nothing  has  been  said  about  church  in  con¬ 
nection  with  you  and  me.  ’Twill  make  you 
laugh.  Now  dearest  don’t  refuse  me  this,  for 
it  will  be  a  comfort  to  me  in  my  distress — at 
one  o’clock  to-morrow,  love,  I  have  thy  dear 
note.  Oh  !  how  I  will  devour  every  word. 
Good  God !  if  I  only  could  see  you  now.  Till 
Monday  is  an  eternity.  Oh!  how  hard  is 
my  fate— so  near  thee  dearest,  and  yet  can¬ 
not  see  thee.  Good  night,  love,  kiss  me 
sweetly,  think  of  me  every  night,  with  my 
cheek  resting  on  thy  dear  miniature,  loving 
you  with  such  devotion.  To-morrow  thy 
dear  note  makes  me  haDpy,  till  then,  adieu. 

Your  own  VA. 

12,  ‘Wednesday  Night. 

Major  Pollard  was  recalled  by  the  de¬ 
fence. 

Some  of  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Myers  spoke  of 
her  being  traduced  by  a  member  of  her  own 
family,  to  Hoyt.  Maj.  Pollard  being  inter¬ 
rogated  on  this  point  by  Mr.  Scott,  said ;  none 
of  my  family,  as  I  believe,  ever  spoke  to  Mr. 
Hoyt  on  this  subject,  except  my  son  and  my- 


22  TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


self.  When  Mr.  Hoyt  asked  me,  as  I  stated 
before,  if  I  knew  Mrs.  Myers  to  be  an  un¬ 
happy  woman,  etc.,  he  added,  I  think,  that 
he  looked  upon  her  as  a  splendid  monument 
of  grief.  Again,  when  Hoyt,  asked  me 
if  I  was  aware  that  the  letter  intercepted 
was  written  in  answer  to  one  he  received,  I 
told  him  my  daughter  had  certainly  been 
very  indiscreet,  and  that  I  attributed  her  im¬ 
prudent  conduct  to  the  demoralizing  publica¬ 
tions  of  the  day,  the  novels  of  Bulwer  and 
Eugene  Sue.  Mrs.  Myers  never,  that  I  heard 
of,  received  any  unkind  treatment  from  any 
member  of  my  family.  [Mr.  Mayo  here  pro¬ 
cured  the  paper  found  in  Hoyt’s  bed,  which 
he  was  required  to  sign,  and  interrogated 
Maj.  Pollard  as  to  the  hand-writing;  he  said 
I  think  it  is  that  of  Col.  Sam’l  S.  Myers.  The 
counsel  for  the  defence  admitted  the  fact.] 

J.  R.  Pollard  recalled  by  the  defence.  In¬ 
terrogated  about  the  letter  in  which  Mrs. 
Myers  speaks  of  her  being  calumniated  by 
him  to  Hoyt,  stated  ;  I  never  had  three 
words  with  Hoyt  before  the  interview  I  spoke 
of  yesterday— -at  that  time,  he  said  to  me,  I 
had  better  have  seen  Mrs.  Myers  and  learned 
from  her  how  he  came  to  be  walking  with 
her  on  the  square,  before  I  wrote  him  so  in¬ 
sulting  a  letter.  I  told  him  that  I  had  fre¬ 
quently  spoken  to  my  sister  on  the  subject  of 
her  imprudent  conduct,  and  she  had  attempt¬ 
ed  to  justify  herself  by  speaking  of  the  inti¬ 
mate  friendship  that  existed  between  them; 
but,  I  told  him  that  after  seeing  his  letter.  I 
was  not  to  be  imposed  on  by  such  state¬ 
ments;  he  asked  me  if  I  thought  my  sister 
would  tell  an  untruth;  I  answered,  that  I  be¬ 
lieved,  in  this  instance,  she  had  told  me  what 
was  not  true. 

[In  this  connection,  to  prove  how  little 
Mrs.  Myers’  complaints  of  unkind  treatment 
from  her  husband  could  he  relied  on,  the  de¬ 
fence  offered  in  evidence  the  following  letter.] 

Mrs.  M.  to  her  husband,  written  the  day  after 

his  departure  for  the  North. 

Richmond,  Sept.  8th,  1846. 

Oh !  dearest  Willie,  how  sadly,  how  very 
sadly  have  I  missed  you — I  really  feel  this 
morning  almost  too  gloomy  to  write;  and  yet 
this  will  tell  how  fondly  i  have  thought  of 
you  since  we  parted.  My  darling  husband,  I 
do  indeed  love  you  very  dearly,  and  could 
you  know  every  feeling  of  my  heart  you 
would  never  doubt  one  so  purely  yours.  Yes¬ 
terday  after  you  left  I  remained  at  home 
until'  12  o’clock,  arranging  the  house,  and 
how  desolate  did  all  appear  to  me,  so  much 
so  that  it  kept  me  constantly  in  tears.  I 

found  cousin - very  glad  to  see  me,  and  I 

am  happy  to  say  she  appears  very  kind  and 
affectionate.  I  shall  do  every  thing  in  my 
power  to  render  myself  agreeable  and  useful 
to  her.  Yesterday  afternoon - and  my¬ 
self  took  a  drive  together,  and  Mrs. - -  and 

- came  in  the  evening  to  see  me.  All  of 

my  acquaintances  whom  I’ve  seen  are  very 


kind  in  inviting  me  to  see  them.  I  ha' 

promised -  to  pass  a  day  with  her  soo 

and  will  write  you  about  it.  By  the  bye 
must  not  forget  to  tell  you  on  yesterdi 

morning  I  received  a  note  from - ,  askii 

me  to  call  that  afternoon  to  take  herself  ai 

Mr. - to  drive.  Not  knowing  dear  Will 

whether  you  would  approve  of  it,  I  did  n 

go;  for  I  knew  it  was  some  of - ’s  mance1 

vering  to  entrap - .  I  have  just  receivi 

a  letter  from  mama  by  Mr. - ,  he  is  on  1; 

way  to  the  north.  Do  dear  love  try  and  » 

Mr. - while  he  is  in  New  York,  and  in  vi 

him  to  dine  with  you  at  the  Astor — do  this 
oblige  me,  for  he  is  a  great  favorite  of  min 
I  have  my  darfing  thus  given  you  an  accou; 
of  my  movements  since  you  left,  which  thouj 
but  a  few  hours,  appears  many  days — i 
slowly  does  the  time  pass.  I  really  miss  yc 
so  much,  dearest,  that  I  fear  I  shall  not  1 
able  to  endure  three  weeks’  absence,  so  don 
be  angry  if  you  receive  a  letter  saying  tl 
time  of  probation  is  to  be  shortened.  I  bo| 

I  shall  feel  better  satisfied  after  awhile,  b 
now'  I  do  feel  so  lonely  and  sad.  I  feel  tb 
morning,  dearest  Willie,  as  if  I  would  gi‘ 
anything  to  see  you — you  don’t  know,  deares 
how  I  want  to  see  you,  even  though  separati 
but  for  a  day.  I  was  imagining  yesterda 
whether  Willie  was  thinking  of  me  as  coi 
stantly  as  I  was  of  him,  and  last  night  wh« 

I  fell  asleep,  my  last  thoughts  were  your 
Indeed,  my  precious  darling,  I  fear  you  c 
not  realize  how  fondly,  how  devotedly  I  a: 
your  wife.  There  are  times,  dearest,  I  knoi 
when  I  have  been  fretful  and  irritable  dea 
and  said  things  wrong,  very  wrong  thing 
which  I  did  not  feel,  but  which  were  uttert 
iu  the  excitement  of  passion — no  sooner  hat 
they  passed  my  lips  than  my  heart  has  n 
proaclied  me  for  them,  and  in  silence,  haves 
wept  to  think  how  I  have  been  misled  by  at 
ger.  But  dearest  one,  I  know  you  will  loo 
on  these  things  in  their  proper  light;  An 
now  my  dear  Willie,  I  pray  you  to  forgitj 
me  for  the  many  harsh  and  unkind  things ,i 
have  uttered.  Now  that  I  am  separated  fro«| 
you  it  distresses  me  so  much  to  think  o 
these  bitter  memories.  Dear  Willie,  I  wool 
that  you  could  read  my  heart,  for  then  yoi 
would  know  how  truly  and  fondly  I  love  you 
Yes,  dearest  Willie,  believe  me  my  very  heal 
is  yours — its  every  thought,  its  every  feelina 
I  am  and  ever  shall  be  faithful  and  true  t 
you.  You  deserve  this  from  me  darling;  fd 
Oh!  I  feel  how  kind  and  good  you  are  to  inl¬ 
and  though  there  have  been  times  when  | 
have  appeared  to  be  unmindful  of  all  this] 
yfcl  in  my  heart  there  has  ever  glowed  th 
warmest  gratitude.  Yes,  my  darling  I  d 
love  you,  very  dearly,  and  could  you  knov  1 
how  unceasingly  I  have  thought  of  you  sine 
we  parted,  you  would  be  convinced  of  th  I 
feelings  of  my  bosom.  Dear  Willie,  nov 
that  you  are  away  have  not  any  anxious  car 
for  me.  Be  assured,  that  my  every  actioi 
shall  be  of  the  strictest  propriety.  You  mai 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


ive  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  me;  for 
I  shall  not  be  misplaced.  Dearest,  you  must 
rite  to  me  very  often.  Think  what  a  com- 
rt  your  letters  will  be  to  me;  I  shall  read 
tern  with  such  pleasure,  and  they  will  cheer 
ie  dark  days  of  absence.  Once  more  dear- 
t,  I  say  do  write  often.  I  fear  darling,  you 
juj  scarcely  read  this  scrawl,  but  here  there 
a  most  lamentable  dearth  of  pen  and  ink. 
in-day  I  shall  lay  in  a  supply  for  myself,  so 
y  next  letter  will  be  more  intelligible.  My 
irit  ng  so  quickly,  dearest  Willie,  tells  you 
:>w  fondly  you  are  remembered.  I  shall 
ve  you  accounts  of  myself  very  often,  for 
rarest,  ’tis  one  of  my  greatest  pleasures  to 
rite  you.  Now,  for  a  thousand"  kisses  and 
•rod  bve,  my  dear  precious  husband,  with 
’erv  assurance  of  devotion  and  affection,  I 
a  unchangeably  yours, 

VIRGINIA. 

fiLLiAM  R.  Myers. 

Astor  House,  N.  Y. 

Mr.  Mayo  stated  to  the  court  that  Mr. 
oyden  desired  to  make  some  explanations 
and  additions  to,  his  evidence  of  yesterday; 
hich  he  had  the  right  to  do.  Mr.  Boyden 
jien  came  forward  and  said : 

One  day,  a  servant  came  to  me  and  told  me 
.at  there  was  a  lady  in  the  parlor  who  desir- 
l  to  see  me — I  went  and  found  Mrs.  Myers 
iere — she  said,  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Hoyt  for  a 
oment,  send  to  him,  will  you,  and  let  him 
sow  that  I  am  here?  I  did  so.  Another 
me,  I  was  putting  down  a  carpet  in  one  of 
'v  rooms,  and  Mr.  Hoyt  was  assisting  me  to 
atch  it.  A  servant  came  and  said,sthere  was 
lady  in  the  parlor  who  wanted  to  see  me — 
found  it  was  Mrs.  Myers;  she  said,  I  want 
>  see  Mr.  Hoyt,  won’t  you  let  him  know  that 
am  here?  I  replied,  he  is  in  a  neighboring 
iom,  I  will  tell  him.  I  went  back  and  told 
lr.  Hoyt  that  there  was  a  lady  in  the  parlor 
ho  wanted  to  see  him,  and  he  went  out;  but 
hether  he  saw  Mrs.  Myers  on  either  of  these 
;casions,  I  do  not  know — moreover,  I  did 
■.collect  when  I  read  the  report  of  Mr. 
losby’s  testimony,  that  in  speaking  of  the 
dy  that  came  out  of  18,  he  did  say  that  he 
flowed  her  to  the  front  door,  and  found  that 
was  Mrs.  Myers. 

1  Ques.  by  Mr.  Scott.  Didn't  you  state  yes- 
uday,  that  you  paid  no  attention  to  Mr. 
Cosby’s  information,  because  it  was  founded 
in  the  statement  of  a  negro?  Ans.  I  did. 
lues.  Didn’t  you  say  expressly  in  answer  to 
question  from  Mr.  Lyons  to  that  effect,  that 
lr.  Mosby  did  not  tell  you  that  he  knew  it  to 
‘e  Mrs.  Myers  from  his  own  observation? 
ms.  I  did.  Ques.  How  has  your  memory 
een  refreshed  on  this  point?  Ans.  By  read- 
)g  the  report  of  Mr.  Mosby’s  evidence. 
Jues.  But  was  not  your  attention  called 
articularly  to  this  point  yesterday,  and  how 
ame  you  not  to  think  of  it  then?  Ans.  I 
on’t  know,  I  told  you  before  I  have  heard 
a  much  that  I  don’t  know  what  I  do  know, 
lues.  Didn’t  yon  deny  yesterday  that  you 


S3 

knew  of  any  interviews  between  Hoyt  and 
Mrs.  Myers  in  the  Exchange?  Ans.  I  did. 
Ques.  What  refreshed  your  memory  on  this 
point?  Ans.  I  mentioned  these  circum¬ 
stances  to  my  counsel  who  drew  my  card  for 
me;  he  omitted  them,  but  on  talking  to  him 
to-day,  he  told  me  that  it  was  proper  that  I 
should  come  into  court  and  state  them.  Ques. 
Did  not  Mr.  Lyons  expressly  ask  you  yester¬ 
day  if  you  knew  of  any  interviews  between 
Mrs.  Myers  and  Mr.  Hoyt;  and  didn  t  you  tell 
him  you  did  not?  Ans.  I  did.  Ques.  How 
do  you  account  for  your  not  making  this 
statement?  Ans.T  don’t  know.  Mr.  Scott 
very  significantly  remarked,  I  have  no  more 
questions  for  that  witness. 

In  answer  to  questions  by  Mr.  Lyons,  Mr. 
Boyden  said:  It  was  in  August  that  these  in¬ 
terviews  took  place;  certainly  not  before  I 
went  to  the  races.  I  think  they  happened 
before  I  went  to  Old  Point — upon  reflection, 
I  think  it  was  after  I  got  back;  the  last  note 
I  ever  received  under  cover  for  Mr.  Hoyt, 
was  on  the  Thursday  of  the  Petersburg  races. 

Ques.  by  Mr.  Lyons.  Did  not  these  inter¬ 
views,  combined  with  Mosby’s  statements  and 
the  receipt  of  the  letters  under  cover,  excite 
any  suspicions  in  your  mind?  Ans.  They 
did  not. 

Mayor’s  Court,  Thursday,  Oct.  15. 

Ira  L.  Bowles,  called  by  the  Common¬ 
wealth,  and  sworn,  testified — I  keep  the  Ta¬ 
vern  at  Hanover  Court  House,  about  20  miles 
from  Richmond;  don’t  know  Win.  Burr  or 
Wm.  Myers;  recognized  them  at  the  bar. 
They  were  both  at  my  house  on  the  27th  day 
of  Sept.  Burr  arrived  alone  in  a  carriage, 
between  9  and  10  o’clock,  A.  M.  He  stayed 
until  half  past  two:  whilst  there,  he  inquired 
the  way  to  the  Junction,  and  to  Taylorsville. 
He  returned  between  7  and  8  with  Mr.  Myers 
in  the  carriage  with  him.  They  remained 
about  half  an  hour,  and  left  about  8,  as  I  un¬ 
derstood,  on  their  way  to  Richmond.  It  is 
about  10  miles  from  Hanover  Court  House 
to  the  Junction. 

B.  F.  Derracott,  called  by  the  Common¬ 
wealth  and  sworn — I  am  the  captain  of  the 
Fredericksburg  railroad  train.  Wm.  R.  My¬ 
ers  came  to  the  Junction  in  the  cars  on  the 
27th  of  September,  and  stopped  there.  The 
cars  as  usual  came  to  Richmond. 

Thos.  Munford,  a  very  intelligent  youth, 
the  son  of  Col.  G.  W.  Munford,  called  by  the 
defence,  and  sworn — I  live  in  the  next  house 
to  Mr.  Myers,  and  am  in  the  habit  of  coming 
home  every  day  from  school  for  my  snack, 
about  12  o’clock;  very  frequently  saw  Mr. 
Hoyt  going  into  Mr.  Myer’s  house  at  that 
hour,  and  coming  out  about  3,  when  I  re¬ 
turned  from  school.  This  continued  during 
the  summer,  until  the  4th  of  July,  when  our 
vacation  commenced;  think  I  saw  him  after¬ 
wards  during  the  vacation. 

Mr.  Wm.  Rctherfoord  recalled  by  the  de¬ 
fence — I  livf  near  Mr.  Myers;  my  attention 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


24 

wa*  attracted  to  Mr.  Hoyt’s  visits  to  the 
house,  in  consequence  of  the  rumors  that 
were  afloat;  I  thought  from  his  mode  of  pro¬ 
ceeding,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  observed. 
One  day  when  be  approached,  I  was  in  my 
yard,  and  saw  him  pass.  Curious  to  know 
what  he  would  do,  I  went  up  into  the  back 
room  of  my  house,  and  stationed  myself  so 
that  I  could  watch  him,  without  being  ob¬ 
served.  I  saw  him  pass  around  Kent’s  cor¬ 
ner,  and  then  go  into  Mr.  Myer’s  house. 
Another  day  I  saw  him  driving  rapidly  up 
the  street;  Mrs.  Myers  was  at  the  window; 
as  he  approaehed  the  house,  he  slackened 
his  pace,  and  finally  stopped  and  conversed 
with  her.  At  this  time  my  brother  went  out 
of  the  gate,  and  Mr.  Hoyt,  seeming  to  ob¬ 
serve  him,  suddenly  rode  on.  I  called  the 
attention  of  Col.  Munford  on  one  occasion  to 
their  manoeuvres  at  the  Theatre.  He  treated 
it,  I  thought,  cavalierly;  being  a  little  mor¬ 
tified  at  it  I  spoke  to  him  about  it  next  day, 
when  he  said  it  was  dangerous,  or  imprudent, 
to  talk  about  such  matters.  I  think  Hoyt 
made  visits  after  the  16th  of  April,  when 
Myers  received  the  anonymous  note. 

[Mr.  Scott  here  announced  to  the  Court, 
that  Mr.  John  M.  Patton  wished  to  make  a 
statement  merely,  not  upon  oath,  as  it  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  evidence  in  this  cause. 
Mr.  Mayo  suggested,  that  with  the  most  en¬ 
tire  confidence  in  the  truth  of  everything 
that  Mr.  Patton  would  say,  it  would  be  more 
formal  and  proper  that  he  should  be  sworn. 
Mr.  Patton  was  accordingly  sworn.]  My 
attention  was  called  this  morning  to  the  evi¬ 
dence  given  in  here  by  one  of  the_  witnesses 
yesterday,  in  which  some  things  were  stated 
that  might  not  appear  altogether  creditable 
to  myself.  [The  Mayor  and  the  Counsel 
assured  Mr.  Patton  that  no  such  impression 
had  been  made  on  their  minds.]  Sir.  Patton 
went  on  with  his  statement. 

When  Mr.  Boyden  called  on  me  to  act  as 
his  counsel  in  this  matter,  I  told  him  that  it 
was  unusual  and  improper  for  a  party  who 
was  only  a  witness  in  a  cause,  to  have  counsel; 
but  when  I  understood  that  as  an  individual 
his  character  was  suffering  in  the  community 
from  the  rumors  that  were  afloat,  I  advised 
him  to  address  a  card  to  the  public,  and  I 
drew  it  for  him.  To  enable  me  to  do  so  Mr. 
Boyden  put  me  in  possession,  as  I  supposed, 
of  the  facts  of  the  case,  as  far  as  he  was  con¬ 
cerned.  Among  other  things  he  mentioned 
to  me  these  two  interviews  at  the  Exchange ; 
I  told  him  that  it  was  a  very  delicate  matter 
to  say  what  facts  he  might  give  to  the  public 
in  his  own  justification;  and  what  he  ought  to 
keep  asa  witness  for  the  Court ;  but  that  these, 
I  thought,  onght  to  be  reserved  for  the  trial; 
they  were  accordingly  omitted  in  the  card;  I 
heard  Mr.  Boyden  give  in  his  testimony,  and 
noticed  that  he  omitted  these  facts;  when  he 
had  gotten  through,  he  came  to  me  where  I 
stood,  and  said,  “  Did  I  say  too  much  or  too 
little?”  I  answered,  you  said  nothing  at  all 


inconsistent  with  what  you  told  me,  but  yot 
omitted  the  statement  thut  I  warned  you  tc 
make;  he  asked  me  what  he  should  do?  ! 
told  hint  I  presumed  that  it  was  not  impor 
tant,  and  perhaps  he  had  better  let  it  rest 
but  reflecting  on  it,  I  thought  that  justice  t< 
himself  and  justice  to  the  accused  demandet 
that  Mr.  Boyden  should  make  the  statement 
I  therefore  told  him  yesterday  that  he  ough 
to  do  so;  he  asked  me  how  it  was  to  be  done 
and  I  told  him  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  as! 
permission  of  the  Court  to  amend  his  tes 
timony.  , 

Mr.  Wra.  Rutherfoord  now  proffered  an  ad¬ 
ditional  statement.  He  said:  I  wish  to  stah 
everything  I  know,  but  I  do  not  exactly  un 
derstand  what,  under  the  rule  of  law,  is  evi 
dence,  and  what  is  not;  can  I  relate  a  conver¬ 
sation  I  had  with  Captain  Hunter?  The 
Court  said  it  would  not  be  admissible.  [Mr 
Mayo  then  asked  Mr.  Rutherfoord  if  he  knew 
anything  of  a  letter  received  by  Myers  or 
the  subject  of  his  wife’s  conduct?]  He  an¬ 
swered:  After  Hoyt  was  shot,  William  My¬ 
ers  showed  me  an  anonymous  note  he  hac 
received,  the  contents  of  which  I  believe  3 
can  substantially  repeat.  [Here  the  counse 
for  the  defence  produced  a  note,  which  Mr 
Rutherfoord  identified  as  the  one  to  which  1m 
alluded.  It  was  in  these  words : ' 

“  Mr.  Mires,  I  want  you  too  look  too  th( 
conduct  of  your  wife;  she  sees  Mr.  Hoyl 
very  often  and  gets  many  notes  from  him. 
He  will  be  at  your  house  to-day — Do  stop 
him  from  it  or  you  will  be  ruined, 
l  am  your  friend, 

An  unfortunate  woman.” 

This  note  was  evidently  written  in  a  dis¬ 
guised  hand;  the  superscription  which  had 
been  torn  to  pieces,  was  well  written,  and 
well  spelt,  whilst  the  note  enclosed  was  illite¬ 
rate  both  in  style  and  appearance. 

Mr.  Rutherfoord  continued:  when  Myers 
showed  me  the  note,  I  told  him  I  thought'I 
knew  the  author.  I  imagined  that  Capt. 
Hunter  wrote  it,  from  what  he  said  to  me  the 
day  he  came  over  to  my  yard  frorr  Myers’ 
house;  but  upon  mentioning  it  to  him,  he. 
told  me  he  was  not  the  author.  Myers  told 
me  he  found  the  note  under  the  inner  door 
of  his  office.  He  was  going  out  at  the  time; 
he  got  upon  his  horse,  rode  home,  and  enter¬ 
ed  his  house  through  the  basement  story; 
went  up  stairs  into  the  parlor,  and  found 
Hoyt  with  his  wife,  his  gloves  on  and  his  hat 
in  his  hand;  he  went  into  an  adjoining  room 
and  sent  for  Mrs.  Myers;  he  showed  her  the 
letter,  and  remonstrated  with  her  upon  the 
impropriety  of  her  conduct.  He  returned  to 
his  factory,  leaving  Hoyt  in  the  house.  In 
a  short  time,  Hoyt  came  to  th.-  office,  and 
told  him  that  Mrs.  Myers  had  mentioned  to 
him,  that  he  had  received  a  note,  charging 
him  with  improper  attentions  to  her.  Hoyt 
said  it  was  written  by  some  malicious  person, 
and  assured  him,  his  attentions  were  only  the 
courtesies  of  a  friend,  grateful  for  the  kind- 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  ANTS  OTHERS. 


:ess  with  which  he  had  been  treated  at  his 
ouse.  Myers  told  him  that  whether  it  was 
o  or  no,  his  attentions  had  given  rise  to  ru  ■ 
lors,  and  that  they  must  cease.  On  this 
ccasion  Col.  Myers  also  warned  him  that 
is  visits  must  be  stopped.  He  solemnly 
romised  that  they  should  be,  and  left  the 
ffice. 

;  [The  Coimsel  for  the  defence  here  closed 
teir  evidence,  and  the  Attorney  for  the  Com¬ 
monwealth  arose.] 

'May  it  please  your  Honor,  said  Mr.  Mayo, 
y  position  is  a  novel,  if  not  a  wholly  unpre- 
dented  one.  I  am  here  only  at  the  bidding 
the  Court  to  guard  the  interests  of  the 
ommonwealth,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  open 
y  mouth  upon  the  subject  of  this  evidence, 
lless  the  Court  requests  it. 

[The  Mayor  asked  if  the  Counsel  for  the 
xused  intended  to  argue  the  cause?  Mr. 
i  ott  replied  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the 
'lunsel  to  ask  the  Court  to  separate  so  much 
'  the  prosecution  as  related  to  Col.  Samuel 
[Myers  and  Wm.  Burr,  and  they  hoped  to 
!)w  that  these  parties  ought  to  be  discharged, 
j,  shout  touching  the  case  of  Wm.  R.  Myers. 
ie  Mayor  then  requested  the  Attorney  for 
I:  Commonwealth  to  argue  the  case,  and 
freupon  Mr.  Mayo  rose  and  said:] 
it  is  a  most  unusual  thing  for  the  Common- 
lalth’s  Attorney  to  appear  before  a  commit- 
f  j  magistrate,  although  it  is  unquestionably 
6  retimes  done.  In  this  case,  sir,  I  shall  en- 
li.vor  to  do  what  it  is  my  duty  to  do  every- 
f ere:  to  conduct  this  investigation  with  a 
5  ^Ie  eye  to  the  interests  of  the  Common  - 
frdth  and  the  good  of  the  community.  The 
tty  question  for  the  Commonwealth  here  is, 
Ire  her  laws  been  violated?  and  the  only 
3  y  for  me  to  perform  is,  to  see  that  in  con- 
d  ting  tins  investigation,  the  proceedings 
a  in  confonnity  with  the  rules  prescribed 
b  he  law  of  the  land.  Your  duty,  sir,  as 
o  of  the  judges  of  the  Commonwealth  is  to 
>:;ide  over  this  investigation,  and  pronounce 
'r  decision  according  to  the  dictates  of 
■  r  judgment.  I  have  brought  my  books 
i'!,  that  I  might  show  you  that  what  I  am 
i  ig  to  say  is  only  in  strict  conformity  with 
fc  law,  and  that  I  do  not  speak  without  war- 
for  what  I  utter. 

ou  are  sitting  here  to  .ascertain  whether 
Marvin  Hoyt  was  killed  by  the  accused  as 
d  ged  in  the  warrant  of  indictment.  If  the 
Pence  satisfies  you  that  the  killing  was 
(c !  by  the  accused,  and  not  done  in  self-de- 
fe  e,  you  must  stop  there;  the  law  distin- 
h  ies,  it  is  true,  between  degrees  of  homi- 
lii .  but  it  is  not  for  you  as  a  committing 
p  istrate  to  make  these  distinctions.  If 
fr  are  satisfied,  not  of  the  probability  of 
p  -,  but  if  the  evidence  warrants  reasonable 
P  nd  of  suspicion,  it  is  your  duty  to  send 
;» ?arty  on.  But  I  will  not  trust  to  my  me  • 

P  7;  I  will  refer  to  the  law  books.  Hale 
P  it  down  as  a  principle,  that  if  a  person  is 
w  ged  on  oath  with  a  felony,  the  examin- 


25 

ing  magistrate  cannot  bail  or  discharge  the 
prisoner,  but  must  commit  him.  See  Hale’s 
Pleas  of  the  Crown,  v.  2d,  p.  121.  But  the 
Inquisition  of  the  Jury,  upon  which  the  war¬ 
rant  in  this  case  is  founded,  and  upon  which 
the  parties  are  brought  before  the  Court, 
must  be,  in  the  eyes  of  every  right  think¬ 
ing  mind,  authority  infinitely  higher  than  the 
oath  of  any  single  individual.  But  I  am  wil¬ 
ling  to  admit,  that  this  rule  of  my  Lord  Hale 
is,  in  my  opinion,  too  stringent,  and  I  will 
proceed  to  lay  down  the  rule  prescribed  by 
Chitty,  which  is  universally  acquiesced  in. — 
“  If  there  manifestly  appears  to  be  no  ground 
of  detention,  or  if  the  suspicion  is  wholly 
groundless,  then  the  prisoner  may  be  dis¬ 
charged  without  bail.”  See  Chitty’s  Pleas  of 
the  Crown,  v.  1.,  p.  4.  Now,  if  your  Honor 
thinks  that  the  parties  before  the  Court  come 
within  the  limits  of  this  rule,  it  is  your  duty 
to  discharge  them.  In  fact,  Chitty,  p.  89, 
declares  that  neither  the  State  nor  the  accus¬ 
ed  have  the  right  to  appear  before  the  exam¬ 
ining  magistrate,  by  counsel,  and  in  truth, 
sir,  both  I  and  my  friends  on  the  other  side, 
are  only  here  at  all  by  the  courtesy  of  your 
Honor.  In  1st  Va.  Cases,  Commonwealth  vs. 
Myers,  the  General  Court,  have  declared  that 
five  justices  sitting  as  an  examining  Court, 
have  no  power  to  discriminate  between  de¬ 
grees  of  homicide ;  much  less  can  this  Court 
possess  any  such  authority.  It  would  be 
most  monstrous  if  it  did. 

I  mean  at  this  time  to  make  no  comment 
upon  the  evidence  that  has  been  adduced  be¬ 
fore  you,  except  such  as  may  be  necessary  to 
show  that  the  case  of  the  accused  comes  with¬ 
in  the  rules  that  I  have  quoted.  I  will  there¬ 
fore  discard,  for  the  present  at  least,  the  great 
bulk  of  irrelevant,  and,  with  all  due  deference 
be  it  spoken,  what  I  consider  illegal  testi¬ 
mony,  that  has  been  lugged  into  this  cause. 
I  shall  therefore  discard  from  my  considera¬ 
tion,  as  unnecessary  for  my  present  purpose, 
the  dying  declarations  of  the  accused;  nor 
will  I,  unless  I  am  forced  into  it  by  the  course 
of  counsel  on  the  other  side,  defile  my  hands 
with  the  most  unpleasant  and  disgusting  tes¬ 
timony,  which  has  been  so  improperly  intro¬ 
duced  here  in  the  shape  of  letters. 

What  is  the  testimony  ?  Not  being  pres¬ 
ent  on  the  first  day,  I  must  be  indebted  to  the 
reporters  for  it.  [Here  Mr.  Mayo  called  for 
a  copy  of  the  Standard,  and  having  obtained 
it  pioceeded.]  Pirst,  in  an  investigation  of 
this  kind,  after  having  established  the  fact 
that  the  act  charged  has  been  committed,  you 
must,  in  searching  for  the  actor,  look  for  a 
motive.  You  find  it  existing  sufficiently 
strong,  God  knows,  in  the  unfortunate  mail 
before  you.  You  find  him  first  appearing  in 
this  Commonwealth  on  the  27th  day  of  Sep¬ 
tember,  coming  within  20  miles  of  Richmond 
in  the  public  conveyance,  and  there  stopping. 
You  next  see  him  in  a  carriage  with  another 
of  the  accused,  who  has  gone  for  him,  pro¬ 
ceeding  from  the  Junction  where  he  got  out 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


26 

of  the  cars,  to  Hanover  Court  House  ;  and 
from  thence  to  Richmond.  On  the  morning 
of  the  28th,  at  the  moment  the  fatal  deed  was 
committed,  where  do  you  find  the  accused? 
Read  Pegram’s  evidence;  rea£  Hawes’  state¬ 
ment,  Crouch’s,  Schafer’s— you  find  two  of 
the  accused  going  in,  and  all  three  of  them 
coming  out  of  Hoyt’s  office.  Whilst  in  there 
three  pistol  shots  are  heard,  and  the  moment 
afterwards  the  unfortunate  man  is  found  wel¬ 
tering  in  his  blood.  Can  you  consider  this 
mass  of  coherent  testimony  without  coming 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  accused  have  com¬ 
mitted  a  felonious  homicide':'  It  does  not  be¬ 
long  to  this  Court  to  consider  the  degree  of 
homicide;  it  is  not  for  you  to  consider  the 
provocation.  If  the  accused  could  show  you 
that  he  had  taken  this  man  iu  the  act  of  adul¬ 
tery,  how  much  soever  your  sympathies  as  a 
man  might  be  enlisted  for  him,  your  duty,  as 
a  Judge,  would  forbid  you  to  discharge  him. 

I  will,  if  the  Court  requires  it,  point  out  the 
distinction  between  the  degrees  of  homicide; 
but,  considering  it  wholly  unnecessary  in  this 
stage  of  the  proceeding,  I  shall  not  attempt 
it  unless  requested  by  the  Court. 

[Here  ]Mr.  Mayo  took  his  seat,  and  Mr. 
Lyons  arose.] 

Mr.  Lyons — May  it  please  your  Honor,  I 
have  enjoyed  a  practice  of  now  some  twenty 
years  standing  in  the  Criminal  Courts  of  this 
Commonwealth,  and  never  in  that  time  has 
it  been  my  fortune  to  witness  a  proceeding  so 
srrange,  so  inconsistent,  as  that  it  hath  pleased 
the  Commonwealth’s  Attorney  to  pursue  here 
to-day.  At  one  moment,  he  humbly  declares 
that  it  is  only  by  your  courtesy  that  he  ap¬ 
pears  in  this  Court  at  all,  and  in  another  he 
wraps  himself  in  his  robe  of  office,  and 
looks  as  though  it  was  the  officer  that  adorn¬ 
ed  the  robe,  not  the  robe  the  officer;  he 
places  himself  upon  a  lofty  pedestal,  far  be¬ 
yond  the  reach  of  common  mortals,  and  talks 
as  if  nothing  so  stunk  in  his  nostrils  as  the 
Court  of  a  Committing  Magistrate. 

[Here  Mr.  Mayo  remonstrated,  and  beg¬ 
ged  Mr.  Lyons  not  to  use  such  language. 
Mr.  Lyons  laughingly  said,  “  it  is  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  Sbakspeare,  I  did’nt  think,  the  gen¬ 
tleman  would  object  to  that  ;  I  hope  he  is 
not  offended.’  i  am  not  offended,  said  Mr. 
Mayo,  the  gentleman  at  least  “  never  stunk 
in  my  nostrils.”  Mr.  Mayo  here  apparently 
prepared  to  leave,  the  Court-room,  when  Mr. 
Lyons  good  humoredly  detained  him.  saying 
you  had  better  sit  still  and  take  it.  Mr.  Ly¬ 
ons  proceeded.] 

We  are  told,  sir,  that  there  is  much  of  this 
testimony  with  which  my  honorable  friend 
says  he  will  not  soil  his  hands,  unless  out- 
course  shall  force  it  upon  him.  He  propo¬ 
ses  to  you  to  discard  such  testimony  as  does 
not  suit  his  purposes  ;  to  take  the  circum¬ 
stantial  evidence  alone ;  to  throw  out  the 
dying  declarations  of  Hoyt,  which  Ac  brought 
into  this  Court ;  to  refuse  to  consider  the 
provocation  whiih  led  to  this  act,  and  to  de¬ 


cide  upon  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  the  at 
cused,  upon  the  evidence  that  may  convii ! 
them,  without  regarding  that  which  may  pa 
liate.  excuse  or  justify  them.  I  ask  you, 
sitting  there  as  an  upright  Judge,  can  yc 
find  it  in  your  heart,  or  your  head  either, 
pursue  such  a  course  as  this  ?  I  will  ei 
deavor  to  show  you  that  my  honorable  frien 
too,  has,  unwittingly  no  doubt,  misstated  tl 
law,  and  in  the  name  of  the  grievous 
wronged  Lord  Hale,  I  protest,  in  the  outs< 
against  the  doctrine  he  has  ascribed  to  th 
great  man  and  eminent  judge.  He  asks  yt 
to  discard  evidence  that  is  here  legally 
evidence  that  the  Commonwealth  hers, 
has  introduced  ;  he  asks  you,  in  the  nat 
of  the  law,  to  violate  the  law  ;  he  asks  y 
under  the  semblance  of  right,  to  perpetrate 
wrong  -,  he  asks  you  to  consider  one  part 
the  evidence,  unexplained  by  the  other  pa 
If  that  Justice  which  he  invoked  could  fine 
voice,  she  would  cry  out  trumpet-tongu 
against  this  great  wrong  which  is  sought 
be  perpetrated  in  her  name. 

[Mr.  Mayo  here  explained  ;  he  did  noti 
the  Mayor  to  discard  any  of  the  evidence  ; 
only  said  he  would  discard  the  considerat: 
of  it  in  his  argument  as  unnecessary  for 
present  purposes.  The  Mayor  remark 
-so  I  understood  you, most  distinctly.”  1 
Lyons  proceeded.] 

His  declining,  Sir,  to  make  any  comme 
upon  a  portion  of  the  evidence,  is  equival 
to  asking  you  to  discard  it  ;  because  it  is 
duty  of  the  Commonwealth’s  Attorneyi 
open  for  the  defence  the  way  to  all  the  te 
mony  ;  he  is  bound  in  his  opening  argum 
to  put  us  in  possession  of  his  grounds  of 
fence,  and  let  ns  know  upon  what  evide 
the  Commonwealth  relies  to  sustain  the  j 
secution  ;  it  is  the  universal  rule.  My  | 
ponent  says  he  appears  here  as  the  frien* 
the  Commonwealth  onlyjmd  I  must  do 
the  justice  to  say,  that  his  actions  do  not 
lie  liis  words.  Supposing  that  the  case 
Samuel  S.  Myers  and  William  Burr  vt 
free  from  all  difficulty,  we  proposed  to  seji 
ate  them  from  the  other  defendant, 
would  prohablv  have  been  willing  to  sul 
the  case  of  Wm.  R.  Myers  without  c 
ment.  But  the  Attorney  would  not  i 
this  proposition  in.the  spirit  in  which  it 
offered,  and  it  now  becomes  our  duty  to  e 
upon  the  whole  case. 

You  are  asked  to  adjudge  each  nud  a 
these  parties  guilty  of  killing  D.  Ms 
Hoyt  ;  for  the  circumstances  to  which  ; 
attention  is  solely  directed,  if  they  prove 
thing,  prove  this.  The  accusation  is.  ths 
killed  him  ;  the  warrant  charges  that 
were  all  principals,  and  the  evidence  t 
support  the  charge,  or  the  accused  mu 
acquitted.  Now,  sir,  consider  the  exemf 
character  of  these  gentlemen,  their 
standing  in  society,  the  fact  that  they 
found  by  the  officer  sent  to  arrest  that 
their  usual  occupations,  and  tell  me  if  t 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


27 


5sts  a  shadow  of  doubt  on  your  mind,  that 
U  did  not  kill  Hoyt  ?  Did  ffm.  S.  Burr 
loot  or  attempt  to  shoot  Hoyt  ?  Did 
amuel  S.  Myers  shoot  him  ?  They  were  all 
iree  seen  to  go  into  Hoyt’s  office  ;  granted, 
/ho  knows  what  happened  there  ?  Were 
ley  the  only  persons  there  ?  If  they  did 
iis  act,  which  did  it  ?  How  was  it  done  ? 
oolly  and  deliberately,  or  in  hot  blood,  upon 
idden  provocation  there  received,  or,  per- 
lance,  in  self-defence  ?  Who  can  say  ? 
he  Attorney  for  the  Commonwealth  cannot 
id^e  a  step,  without  looking  beyond  the 
rcumstantial  evidence  ;  he  must  abandon 
iis  ground.  I  wish  most  sincerely  my  ex- 
illent  friend  would  abandon  that,  and  every 
her  ground'of  accusation,  and  could  recon- 
le  it  to  his  sense  of  duty  to  say,  as  I  know 
his  generous  heart  he  does  say,  if  they  did 
ay  him,  they  slew  him  rightly,  justly,  legally, 
id  ought  to  be  commended  of  all  men  for  it. 
ask  you  again  if  the  circumstantial  evi- 
mee  adduced  here,  is  sufficient  to  warrant 
e  inference  of  the  guilt  of  these  parties, 
emember  the  absence  of  all  proof  of  pro¬ 
bation,  of  ill  blood,  the  absence  of  one  of 
e  parties,  the  respectability  of  all  of  them, 
d  tell  me  if  they  are  guilty.  You  are  ask- 
upon  this  evidence  to  say  whether  young 
irr  ought  to  be  hung  for  killing  Hoyt.  I 

i  not  envy  the  feelings,  or  the  position,  of 
it  magistrate  who  shall  be  asked,  upon 
fiat  evidence  did  you  consign  that  young 
;in  to  a  felon’s  grave.  Am  I  to  listen  to 
Vi  monstrous  declaration,  that  that  which 
H  magistrate  and  all  good  men  in  their 
1  arts  approve,  the  law  condemns  ?  Shall 
t:  justice  send  on  as  a  felon  him  who  he  in 
!  soul  believes  has  done  a  worthy  act,  and 
iao  felon  ? 

Look  at  the  circumstantial  evidence  alone, 

ii  all  the  inferences  are  against  the  proba- 
1  ty  of  the  truth  of  this  charge,  that  they 
(  killed  Hoyt.  How  are  you  to  discrimi- 
I  e  ?  No,  sir,  you  are  compelled  for  this 
j  'pose  to  take  up  the  dying  declarations  of 
lyt,  and  the  moment  you  do  that,  we  have 
Vi  on  the  hip.  Do  that,  and  we  ask  no 

ar — we  ask  nothing  of  mercy — we  tri- 
i  phantly  demand  an  acquittal,  and  if  the 
inmonwealth’s  Attorney  were  the  cold 
nodiment  of  justice  he  represents  himself 
be,  he  could  not  refuse  it  to  us.  He  must 
i  latisfied  that  this  testimony  won’t  bear  ex- 
i:  nation,  else  why  so  anxious  to  avoid  it  ? 

.  it  is  too  revolting  for  the  gentleman’s 

Et  cate  sense  of  propriety!  revolting  as  it  is, 
t  lothing  is  it  more  revolting  than  in  this, 
flaet  act  of  this  vile  victim  of  debauchery. 

1  h  him  neither  the  prayer  of  the  father, 
brother,  nor  the  husband,  prevailed.  Not 
l  did  the  solemn  obligations  forced  from 
t  cowardly  heart  of  the  betrayer,  serve  to 
a|st  him  in  his  vile  purposes.  He  lied 
1st  he  lived,  and  he  went  to  the  presence 

f  hat  God,  whose  name  he  dared  to  invoke, 
i  *  lie,  gross,  palpable,  and  revolting,  upon 


his  lips.  And  are  this  wretch  and  my  hon¬ 
ored  friend  who  sits  beside  me,  to  be  held  to 
the  same  accountability  ?  Are  they  equally 
to  fill  a  felon’s  grave  ?  God  forbid  ! 

It  cannot  be  that  the  Commonwealth’s 
Attorney  failed  to  consider  this  testimony, 
that  he  might  lay  a  trap  for  us,  and  when  we 
took  up  this  evidence  say,  gentlemen  I  have 
got  cocked  and  primed  for  you  a  rule  of  law, 
that  forbids  you  to  invalidate  evidence,  which 
you  have  adduced,  and  upon  which  you  have 
relied  ?  No,  Sir,  this  is  no  case  for  trickery 
or  legal  chicanery :  the  character  of  the 
Commonwealth’s  Attorney  forbids  the  suspi¬ 
cion,  and  I  repudiate  it  for  him.  Sir,  you  are 
compelled  to  consider  this  evidence,  and  what 
does  it  prove  ?  Ask  Dr.  Carmichael,  ask 
Dr.  Mills,  ask  Evans  and  a  host  of  others. 
Burr  did  not  raise  his  arm  ;  he  had  no  wea¬ 
pon  ;  he  withdrew,  and  was  not  even  seen 
by  Hoyt  after  the  combat  commenced. 
These  men  are  charged  as  principals.  I 
would  draw  your  attention  to  the  distinction 
between  a  principal  and  an  accessory.  A 
principal  in  the  first  degree  is  he  who  strikes 
the  blow  or  does  the  deed  :  a  principal  in 
the  second  degree  is  he  who  accompanies, 
intending  to  assist  if  necessary.  Who  coun¬ 
sels  and  advises  the  illegal  act,  is  an  accessory 
before  the  fact ;  and  he  who  aids,  succors,  or 
abets  the  perpetrator  after  the  act  is  commit¬ 
ted,  is  an  accessory  after  the  fact.  Remem¬ 
ber,  that  to  constitute  a  principal,  even  in  the 
second  degree,  he  must  be  present,  with  the 
intent  to  assist  if  necessary,  in  accomplish¬ 
ing  the  felonious  deed. 

[Mr.  Mato  here  remarked  that  if  two  per¬ 
sons  went  together,  and  death  ensued,  they 
were  both  principals  in  the  first  degree.] 

Mr.  Lyons.  Ay,  but  the  original  scheme 
must  have  been  concocted  between  them  ;  if 
a  homicide  happen  beyond  and  aside  of  the 
original  intention,  the  mere  presence  of  a  par¬ 
ty  does  not  make  him  an  accessory.  I  can 
even  show  you  a  case  where  a  party  was 
proved  to  be  present,  but  took  no  part  to  as¬ 
sist  or  prevent  the  deed,  and  the  Judge  said, 
this  conduct  is  strange,  but  cannot  be  regarded 
as  criminal.  For  the  distinction  between 
principal  and  accessory,  see  1st  “Russel  on 
Crimes,”  marginal  p.  431. 

How  is  it  with  Mr.  Burr  ?  Why,  Sir,  not 
even  an  Indian  Thug  could  be  found,  who 
would  willingly  put  the  cord  around  that 
young  man’s  neck,  and  take  his  life.  How  is 
it  with  Samuel  Myers  ?  Oh  !  exclaims  the 
Attorney  for  the  Commonwealth,  there  is  the 
paper  ;  he  wrote  the  damning  paper,  that  was 
found  in  Hoyt’s  bed.  Well,  Sir,  and  what  does 
this  prove  ?  Why  the  very  opposite  of  what 
my  learned  friend  would  have  you  to  infer. 
Col.  Myers  comes  to  the  knowledge  that  his 
brother’s  house  had  been  invaded,  his  bed 
polluted,  and  his  honor  wounded,  in  his  ab¬ 
sence  from  his  home.  What  (Joes  he  do  ?  He 
writes  for  that  brother  ;  he  waits  until  he  gets 
here  before  he  breaks  to  his  ear  the  damning 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


26 

news  that  was  to  wreck  his  peace  forever. 
The  excited  husband  says,  as  before  my  God 
I  think  he  ought  to  have  said,  the  power  of 
man  shall  not  save  him  ;  the  brother  says,  no, 
no  ;  stain  not  thy  hand  with  this  wretche’s 
blood  ;  if  he  will  abstain  from  polluting  your 
house,  your  bed,  spare  hi3  life.  He  listened 
to  the  voice  of  this  good,  kind,  elder  brother, 
and  finally  consents.  He  says,  he  has  made 
me  houseless,  homeless  ;  but  if  he  will  consent 
to  remove  his  hateful  person  out  of  my  pre¬ 
sence,  I  wall  show  to  him  that  mercy  he  never 
felt  for  me.  To  carry  out  this  scheme,  they 
go  together  ;  but  the  husband’s  blood  boiled 
too  fast,  and  he  slew  the  miscreant  as  he  found 
him — and  would  you  slay  the  brother  too  for 
this  act  of  kindness  ?  He,  who  begged  and 
obtained  for  this  wrong  doer  the  boon  he  so 
little  deserved  ?  I  know  you  would  not  ;  if 
your  duty  required  this  at  your  hands,  I  know 
you  too  well  not  to  know  that  you  would  not 
■wear  your  ermine  a  single  day  after  it  had  been 
polluted  by  such  an  act.  Because  justice 
is  represented  allegorically  as  blind,  will  you 
shut  your  ears  to  the  cry,  of  humanity,  of 
nature,  and  of  right  ? 

You  are  not  to  consider  the  provocation  in 
an  examination  of  this  sort !  Why,  Sir,  the 
law,  the  English  law,  tells  you,  that  if  you 
take  an  adulterer  in  the  act,  and  slay  him  on 
the  spot,  you  are  guilty  only  of  manslaughter; 
and  the  punishment  is,  to  be  burnt  in  the  hand 
with  an  iron  so  cold  that  it  will  not  make  an 
impression.  But  suppose  you  are  away,  across 
the  seas,  in  England,  or  in  Erance,  and  a 
howling  blast  comes  across  the  waters,  telling 
you  that  your  home  has  been  desecrated  your 
fireside  made  tenantless,  and  she  whose  im¬ 
age  is  engraved  upon  your  heart,  has  been 
degraded  and  polluted;  and  you  hasten  back, 
maddened  with  the  damning  thought  of  all 
your  wrongs,  and  meet  the  slayer  of  your  peace 
in  a  month,  ay  in  a  year  afterwards,  and  kill 
him,  is  not  the  case  the  same  ?  Is  the  law  a 
mockery,  or  is  it  a  sound  rule  of  right  and 
wrong,  rewarding  the  one  and  punishing  the 
other  ?  If,  as  the  Attorney  for  the  Common¬ 
wealth  tells  you,  you  are  to  look  for  the  cause, 
are  you  not  to  look  to  the  degree  of  provoca¬ 
tion,  to  see  how  far,  and  to  whom  it  extends  ? 
This  provocation  appertains  to  my  unhappy 
client,  alone,  except  so  far  as  it  extends  to  a 
numerous  and  most  respectable  host  of  friends, 
who,  in  part  at  least,  are  doomed  to  share  the 
indignity  that  has  been  put  on  him. 

Take  it,  that  he  did  doom  him  to  the  dog’s 
death  that  such  a  man  was  only  entitled  to, 
how  came  he  to  do  the  act?  He  had  treated 
this  man  as  his  friend,  invited  him  to  his 
house,  he  had  warmed  the  serpent  in  his  bo¬ 
som,  and  step  by  step,  stealthily  and  cautious¬ 
ly,  the  fiend  proceeded  in  the  work  of  de¬ 
struction  and  of  desolation,  until  circumstan¬ 
ces  betrayed  in  part  to  the  injured  husband 
the  plot  that  was  thickening  against  his  peace. 
He  received  an  anonymous  communication 
that  attracted  his  attention.  How  like  a  gen¬ 


tleman  did  he  bear  himself?  He  sought  hi 
wife;  he  showed  her  the  note;  he  gave  hi 
honor  in  her  charge,  and  returned,  confidingl 
trusting  in  the  fidelity  of  that  heart,  where  h 
had  garnered  up  the  wealth  of  his  affection 
The  hypocrite  informed  of  the  contents  of  th 
note  by  his  guilty  paramour,  seeks  the  accuse 
at  his  office;  protests  his  innocence,  and  pr< 
misesto  discontinue  those  attentions,  which 
even  if  innocent,  had  obtained  for  the  obje 
of  them  a  most  unenviable  notoriety.  D' 
he  keep  the  promise?  The  very  next  day  1 
broke  it.  Ah  !  but  he  was  seduced  !  Of  * 
the  revolting  acts  that  this  tale  of  horror  an 
of  crime  discloses,  the  lowest,  the  meane? 
the  most  cowardly,  is  the  last  deed  of  this  vi 
seducer;  that  by  which  he  deliberately  retail 
the  proofs  furnished  him  by  his  deluded  vi 
tim  of  her  unhappy  passion.  He  not  on 
keeps  them  for  the  purpose  of  shielding  hit 
self,  under  the  pretext  that  he  was  the  seduc 
not  the  seducer;  but  he  coolly  marks  ai 
dates  them,  that  they  may  be  the  readier  ; 
proclaim  her  shame  and  his  innocence.  I 
winds  his  toils  round  thebeartof  his  infatuat; 
victim;  he  gained  over  her,  as  she  emphatic;, 
ly  said,  such  power  as  man  never  had  o\ 1 
woman;  and  he  used  it  for  what  purpose?! 
That  he  might  toy  with  her  as  a  wanton,  a, 
make  her  the  scape-goat  of  his  oftenc 
’Twas  bad  enough  to  skulk  and  crawl  ii 
the  house  of  his  friend  and  debauch  his  wi 
it  was  bad  enough  to  lie  as  he  did,  and  vi 
late  the  most  solemn  promises;  but,  really, 
it  be  possible  to  add  another  shade  to  ij 
dark  character,  this  mean,  unmanly,  and  ti 
grateful  act,  will  fix  it  there;  and  this  he  (1 
after  he  had  so  played  upon  her  trusting,  v 
manly  heart,  as  to  induce  her  to  burn  ev<i 
vestige  of  his  guilt  that  she  could  comman 

Not  content  with  violating  the  house  of  * 
husband,  he  pursued  his  victim  to  the  sa;- 
tuary  of  the  home  of  her  childhood’s  puri; 
he  sought  her  in  her  father’s  house.  And  i 
father,  what  did  he  do?  with  a  forbearafii 
which  I  can  admire,  but  could  not  imitate,  • 
stead  of  slaying  him  on  the  spot,  as  before  yl 
God  I  would  have  done,  is  content  to  t.jJ 
his  promise.  Did  he  keep  it?  TwelveholJ 
after,  he  violated  the  pledge,  which  not  I 
grry  hairs  of  that  venerable  man,  not  the  si 
plications  of  the  father  praying  for  the  [I 
servation  of  the  honor  of  his  child,  drew  fifl 
his  better  feelings,  but  which  the  alternat! 
of  violence  extorted  from  his  coward  he! 
He  is  warned  again,  and  again  lie  promisl 
and  the  next  day  he  is  detected  in  the  real 
tion  of  the  very  act  which  he  had  so  solem  w 
abjured.  And  the  public,  the  fashions! 
hotel  of  your  city,  was  the  brothel  that  affcl 
ed  them  the  place,  while  the  tavern-keer  \ 
was  the  panderer  for  the  base  deed;  who  tj! . 
paved  the  way  for  his  own  disgrace,  and  -  ( 
most  for  yours  and  mine,  sir,  inasmuch  as )’ 
live  in  the  same  town  with  him. 

If  you  meet  a  man  on  your  steps  invacg 
the  sanctuary  of  your  chamber,  and  you  I 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS.  29 


3  him,  my  wife  is  there ;  that  room  is  conse- 
rated  to  me  alone;  and  he  answers,  I  will  not 
top,  my  passions  are  too  hot ;  if  you  slay  him, 
:  it  not  in  self-defence?  And  was  not  this 
le  case  here?  Did  not  my  poor  friend  go 
3  this  man,  and  say,  my  house,  which  is  my 
astle,  you  have  invaded,  and  my  bed  has  not 
een  sacred  to  you;  there  is  no  faith  in  your 
romises;  but  still  go  away;  let  me  breathe  an 
mosphere  untainted  by  your  presence?  But 
s  laughs  him  to  scorn,  and  it  may  be,  strokes 
Is  beard  at  him.  Excited  to  madness,  he 
ays  him,  and  would  you  punish  him  forit?  If 
man  puts  a  public  indignity  upon  you;  if  he 
■ills  you  by  the  nose,  the  law  says,  kill  him ; 
at  if  he  goes,  night  after  night,  creeping, 
touching,  crawling  to  your  nuptial  couch, 
id  you  slay  him,  we  are  told  that  you  com- 
it  a  felonious  homicide.  I  say  he  does  a 
able  deed,  which  if  he  had  omitted,  the  ne- 
roes  in  the  streets  would  have  turned  up 
oir  noses  at  him.  No  woman  can  ever  look 
ith  favor  upon  the  cowardly  wretch  who 
buld  put  up  with  such  an  indignity,  for  she 
jleks  the  protecting  arms  of  man,  that  he  may 
held,  guard,  and  if  necessary,  avenge  her 
rtue.  And,  sir,  it  ought  to  be  written  in 
rnr  statute  books,  as  it  is  inscribed  upon  the 
farts  of  the  community,  that  this  deed  was 
onorable  in  its  inception,  and  righteous  in 
js  execution. 

{[Mr.  Lyons  having  taken  his  seat,  Mr. 
obert  G.  Scott,  on  the  part  of  the  ac- 
ised,  rose  and  said :] 

I  feel  no  surprise,  may  it  please  your 
lonor,  much  less  r  gret,  at  the  deep  interest 
Manifested  by  one  and  all — the  young,  the 
Id,  and  the  middle-aged,  in  this  interesting 
I'ial.  It  is  a  case,  sir,  that  comes  home  to 
e  bosom  and  the  heart  of  every  just  and 
’htly  thinking  mind.  It  is  only  with  great 
fort  that  I  can  subdue  my  feelings  whenever 
approach  it,  so  as  tc  discuss  as  they  should 
|  discussed,  any  questions  of  law.  I  have 
‘bored  in  this  cause  more  than  any  in  which 
have  been  engaged  for  thirty  years,  and  the 
eat  difficulty  I  have  had  to  encounter  is  so, 
i|  chasten  and  subdue  my  feelings,  as  to  en- 
lle  me  to  do  justice  to  the  case.  If  I  had 
tirely  succeeded  in  the  effort,  I  must  have 
>en  more  or  less  than  man.  No,  sir,  I  have 
i  t  been  able  to  subdue  ray  heart  to  the  dic- 
!;;es  of  my  head ;  I  have  given  up  the  task 
despair,  and  I  come  to  the  argument  labor- 
5  under  all  the  disadvantages  of  having  my 
igment  perpetually  blinded  by  my  feelings, 
rave  looked  at  this  cause  as  husband,  ta¬ 
ler,  citizen ;  and  in  every  relation  in  which 
have  viewed  it,  I  have  been  able  to  bring 
jr  mind  to  only  one  conclusion,  and  that  is, 
Jet  we  must  obtain  a  judgment  of  acquittal 
jr  my  honored  friends— one  and  all  of  them, 
looking  on  you  [turning  to  the  accused,] 
j  10m  I  have  known  from  your  boyhood  up ; 

!  you,  whose  father  was  my  friend;  you ,  the 
ler,  who  have  been  yourself  my  friend  for 
ig  years,  as  Judge  or  juryman,  T  would 


say,  you  are,  each  of  you,  innocent  in  the  eye 
of  God  and  man. 

I  have  not  the  vanity  to  suppose  that  I 
have  been  either  gifted  by  nature  with  suffi¬ 
cient  talents,  or  that  those  talents  have  been 
sufficiently  cultivated,  to  enable  me  to  do  full 
justice  to  this  important  cause.  I  have  often 
wished  that  it  had  been  entrusted  to  other  and 
abler  counsel ;  and  yet,  the  way  to  truth  is  so 
open,  so  plain,  that  even  in  my  humble  hands, 
I  feel,  as  a  necessary  result  of  the  strength  of 
your  cause,  that  each  of  you  must  be  dis¬ 
charged  from  this  prosecution. 

What  have  we  been  asked  to  do  by  the  At¬ 
torney  for  the  Commonwealth?  To  cut  this 
cause  in  two — to  divide  the  evidence  in  halves. 
No,  sir,  we  will  take  it  altogether,  and  we 
will  see  what  is  the  charge  and  what  the 
ground.  Wm.  R.  Myers  is  charged  with 
having  murdered  D.  Marvin  Hoyt,  and  the 
other  two  with  aiding  and  assisting  in  the 
perpetration  of  the  deed.  They  are  here  un¬ 
der  the  warrant,  and  those  are  the  words.  It 
is  therefore  most  appropriate,  most  just,  to 
ascertain  the  law,  and  then  apply  the  facts. 
The  law  I  take  to  be  this  :  If  two  or  more 
persons  unite  together  to  do  a  felonious  deed, 
whatever  is  done  in  pursuance  of  that  agree¬ 
ment,  is  the  act  of  all  ;  participators  must 
share  a  common  fate,  But  if  in  the  pursu¬ 
ance  of  one  object,  collateral  matter  shall 
spring  up,  and  a  felony  shall  be  committed 
by  one.  the  others  are  not  guilty  of  the  felony, 
and  must  be  discharged.  See  1st  “  Russell 
on  Crimes,”  marginal  p.  25:  same  book,  The 
King  vs.  White  and  Richardson,  398.  See 
also  English  Crown  Cases,  98 ;  do.  100.  You 
may  take  Hale  himself  as  your  guide,  and 
you  will  find  if  two  or  more  go  on  a  felony, 
if  some  new  act  springs  up  from  one  party, 
the  others  are  not  participators.  I  know  that 
my  friend  can  adduce  a  case,  and  he  will  pro¬ 
bably  refer  to  it,  where  several  men  agreed 
to  rob  a  house;  and  in  pursuance  of  their  ob¬ 
ject,  a  murder  was  committed  by  one  of  them; 
all  were  held  to  be  guilty  as  participators. 
But  this  was  upon  the  ground  that  there  was 
a  common  agreement  between  them  to  get 
the  goods,  and  that  this  agreement  covered 
all  risks  that  were  to  be  encountered  in  the 
hazard  of  the  enterprise. 

You  tell  me,  sir,  that  we  are  here  by  favor, 
not  by  right;  I  tell  you  we  are  here  by  the 
laws  and  constitution  of  Virginia,  which  se¬ 
cures  to  every  man  the  right  of  trial,  and  to 
be  heard  before  he  is  condemned.  Talk  to 
me  of  Hale,  and  Hawkins,  and  Chitty!  I 
scorn  aud  scoff  at  you,  and  with  the  consti¬ 
tution  of  Virginia  in  my  hand,  I  will  ride 
over  them  rough  shod,  and  leave  not  a  vestige 
of  them  behind.  Something  has  been  said 
here  about  sending  a  party  on  for  probable 
cause;  now  sir,  [addressing  himself  all  this 
time  to  the  Commonwealth’s  Attorney,]  I 
will  read  Chitty  for  your  instruction — it  can 
hardly  be  necessary  for  the  Mayor’s.  See 
Chitty  on  Crimes,  p.  89.  Now,  sir,  is  there 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


SO 

“probable  cause”  to  think  that  two  of  these 
parties,  at  least,  are  guilty  of  the  crime  with 
which  they  stand  charged?  We  will  meet 
them  without  the  testimony  of  Hoyt.  What 
is  the  evidence?  Mr.  Mayo  says  you  must 
prove  that  hostility  existed  between  the  ac¬ 
cused  and  the  deceased.  Who  proves  that 
hostility  existed  between  Samuel  S.  Myers 
or  William  Burr,  and  the  deceased?  They 
were  seen  to  enter  the  office  of  Hoyt  in  com¬ 
pany  with  Wm.  R.  Myers.  Were  they  the 
only  persons  in  that  office?  Who  proves  it? 
Why  was  this  cause  adjourned  from  day  to 
day,  whilst  you  had  this  whole  mass  of  cir¬ 
cumstantial  evidence  before  you,  except  upon 
the  ground  that,  as  the  case  then  stood,  the 
Commonwealth  could  not  bring  the  charge  of 
guilt  home  to  these  parties?  What  was  the 
connecting  link  that  was  so  much  wanting, 
for  which  she  waited  from  day  to  day,  but 
the  testimony  of  Hoyt?  The  paper?  It 
was  found  in  the  room  of  Hoyt;  but  who  tes¬ 
tifies  as  to  how  it  was  introduced?  Isn’t  this 
a  mere  matter  of  inference?  Who  spilt  the 
fatal  blood  ?  Where  is  the  witness  to  testify? 
But  the  Commonwealth,  to  supply  these 
omissions,  has  brought  here  the  dying  decla¬ 
rations  of  Hoyt.  Let  us  look  at  the  case  in 
th's  aspect.  What  do  these  declarations 
prove?  For  the  present.  I  will  deal  with 
them  as  though  they  were  true.  What  did 
these  peace-makers,  my  two  friends  upon  my 
right?  They  went  to  the  room  of  this  man; 
they  said,  go  hence;  leave  us;  sign  this  treaty 
of  peace — this  stipulation  for  quiet.  He  re¬ 
fused.  What  did  Col.  Myers?  From  that 
moment  neither  he  nor  Burr  took  anyfarther 
part.  Did  these  parties  go  to  Hoyt’s  room 
for  an  illegal  purpose?  Was  it  illegal  to  go 
there  to  get  him  to  sign  that  paper?  No, 
honored  and  respected  man,  [turning  to  the 
accused,]  no,  true  and  constant  friend,  no, 
true  and  affectionate  brother,  you  went  for  an 
honorable  purpose — to  save  life  if  it  could  be 
done  consistently  with  the  preservation  of 
honor.  You  are  peace-makers,  not  shedders 
of  human  blood.  As  I  am  a  man,  I  hesitate 
not  to  declare  that  you  acted  with  a  patience 
and  forbearance  that  find  no  parallel  in  the 
history  of  human  wrongs.  As  their  sworn 
judge,  I  would  say  to  them,  go  hence,  act, 
always  prompted  by  such  motives;  do  always 
such  deeds,  and  you  will  violate  neither  the 
laws  of  the  country  nor  of  God.  But  the 
Commonwealth’s  Attorney  now  turns  his 
back  upon  this  testimony.  It  won’t  do  in  a 
court  of  justice,  and  so  the  law  declares,  to 
permit  a  party  to  make  the  experiment,  and 
see  how  far  the  evidence  will  bear  him  out, 
and  then,  if  it  does  not  suit  his  purposes, 
turn  round  and  reprobate  it. 

We  have  it  in  proof  that  the  brother  traced 
the  dark  and  betraying  footsteps  of  the  man 
that  has  died;  he  detected  this  desolating  in¬ 
trigue.  With  a  patience  and  forbearance 
that  is  so  strongly  characterised  in  the  evi¬ 
dence  of  Dr.  Cabell,  he  sought  his  erring  sis¬ 


ter-in-law,  and  remonstrated  with  her.  He 
had  before  him  the  intercepted  letters;  he  had 
the  damning  proof  that  this  man  had  debased 
the  wife  of  his  brother.  With  all  this  con¬ 
clusive  evidence,  he  entertained  no  bloody 
purpose;  he  sought  no  opportunity  of  re¬ 
venge,  and  when  he  finds  his  brother  stung  to 
maHness  by  the  recital  of  his  wrongs,  swear¬ 
ing  revenge  upon  the  worker  of  them,  with  a 
calmness  and  a  generosity  unheard  of,  he, 
says,  spare  him,  spare  him  !  If  he  will  take 
hence  his  baneful,  presence,  if  he  will  leave 
the  place  of  your  residence  unpolluted  by  his 
person,  let  him  go.  Lives  there  the  individual, 
who  will  not  say,  kind  brother,  just  and  for¬ 
bearing  man!  Burr  took  no  part  but  to  sup¬ 
plicate,  to  entreat,  to  advise.  Public  opinion 
said  he,  is  against  you;  sign  this  paper  and 
go  hence.  And  yet  you  are  asked  to  declares 
that  these  men  who  sought  to  avoid  the  shed¬ 
ding  of  blood,  are  guilty  of  spilling  blood. 
Is  it  indeed  the  law  of  the  country  in  which 
we  live,  that  these  men,  who  go  to  make, 
peace,  are  to  fill  a  felon’s  grave,  and  lay  by 
the  side  of  the  guilty  man,  who  drew  upon 
his  own  head  the  just  and  lawful  penalty  ol 
his  crimes?  Even  if  they  did  accompany 
this  injured  man  to  witness  execution  upon 
the  wrong-doer,  they  have  been  engaged  in  s| 
righteous  and  honorable  deed;  and  I  stanc 
prepared  to  justify  them  under  the  laws  o: 
the  land. 

It  is  in  proof  that  the  deceased  began  at  ar 
early  period  of  his  unobserved  intrigue  tc 
wend  his  way  to  the  heart  of  the  young 
beautiful,  and  accomplished  wife  of  one  of  thi 
parties.  He  sought  by  playing  upon  the  jeal 
ousy  and  vanity  of  the  young  wife,  to  es 
trange  her  from  her  kind  and  loving  husband 
he  lulled  her  with  the  song  of  the  charmer 
he  entwined  her  with  the  folds  of  the  serpen 
— and  when  he  had  won  her  young  and  trust 
ing  heart ;  when  she  came  at  his  whistle  an< 
obeyed  his  call,  he  made  her  his  plaything 
and  entertained  for  her  no  more  respect,  that 
for  any  other  wanton  in  the  streets  of  Rich 
mond.  The  approaches  of  the  seducer  die 
not  escape  the  observation  of  such  men  a 
Col.  Munford,  or  William  Ruthcrfoord  ;  bu 
they  prudently  forbore  even  to  discuss  th< 
fearful  subject,  and  hoped  for  the  best 
Others  too  had  already  seen  the  storm  tba 
was  brewing  over  the  head  of  my  devote' 
friend.  In  April  last,  he  was  admonishec 
“  take  care  of  your  wife.” — What  docs  h 
do  ?  With  the  trustingness  of  confiding  lovt 
he  placed  the  warning  in  the  hands  of  he 
who  held  his  honor,  with  a  gentle, admonitio 
to  guard  against  the  appearance  of  impn 
dence.  The  information  was  immediately 
conveyed  by  the  treacherous  wife  to  her  para 
mour.  He  seeks  the  man  he  has  alread 
wronged,  and  protests  his  innocence  ;  he 
told,  “  I  will  guard  the  reputation  of  my  wi: 
as  my  most  precious  jewel  ;  it  is  not  enougi 
that  she  be  innocent  ;  she  must  be  unsuspeci 
ed  ;  and  your  attentions  which  have  led  t 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


31 


iis  anonymous  note,  must  be  stopped.”  He 
ledges  his  honour  as  a  man  that  they  shall 
[3.  And  how  are  these  pledges  kept?  They 
re  unhesitatingly  violated  on  the  succeeding 
iy.  Take  the  evidence  of  the  very  inte'li- 
jnt  son  of  Col.  Munford,  and  you  find  him 
isiting  the  house  every  day  from  12  to  3. 
he  house  of  God,  that  holy  place,  where 
re  would  have  thought  awe,  if  not  religion, 
right  have  restrained  them,  was  not  free  from 
le  evidences  of  their  profane  intercourse, 
ol.  Munford  tells  you,  that  he  saw  them 
^changing  their  lewd  glances  and  signals 
ithin  the  portals  of  the  church  itself. — Pur¬ 
ling  her  thus  until  the  month  of  June,  he 
flowed  her  to  her  father’s  house,  and  he 
jsitated  not,  so  reckless  had  he  became,  to 
ust  the  public  post  with  his  unhallowed 
.issal.  The  father  intercepts  it.  He  reads 
;  “  my  love,”  “  my  darling,”  “  I  have  pro- 
iised  to  make  you  happy,”  are  some  of  the 
cpressions  which  brought  to  this  old  man’s 
lind  the  conviction  of  his  daughter’s  shame, 
e  finds  the  man  whom  he  believes  is  still 
:eking  to  seduce  his  not  innocent,  but  most 
oprudent  daughter.  Yes,  my  old  friend,  I 
now  you  too  well,  not  to  know,  that  had 
ou  imagined  the  guilty  act  was  consumma- 
;d,  you  would  have  immolated  the  scoundrel 
i  he  stood,  and  offered  up  his  worthless 
jrpse  as  an  atoning  sacrifice  to  your  woun- 
sd  affections. 

He  sees  the  peril  of  his  child  ;  that  child 
'hom  he  had  borne  in  his  arms  ;  whose  lod¬ 
ging  footsteps  he*had  supported  ;  whose  girl- 
ood  had  been  his  solace  ;  whose  womanhood 
ad  been  his  pride  ;  he  sees  his  own  peace 
recked  ;  the  bosom  of  his  wife  torn  with 
aguish  ;  what  does  he  ?  If  that  hour  should 
ver  come  on  me,  which  God,  in  his  mercy, 
vert,  I  think  I  would  try  and  so  to  chasten 
iy  heart,  and  subdue  my  spirit,  as  to  make 
iy  own,  this  model  of  a  father’s  conduct. — 
'his  honourable,  strong  minded  man  braced 
imself  up  to  the  trial ;  he  kept  the  secret  of 
is  child’s  dishonor  in  his  own  bosom  ;  he 
rught  the  libertine  (I  am  sorry,  Sir,  to  be 
rmpelled  to  speak  thus  of  a  dead  man,  and 
othing  but  the  astonishing  turpitude  of  his 
jnduct  could  induce  me  to  do  it) — he  sought 
im,  and  he,  venerable  in  years,  humbled 
imself  before  this  degraded  wretch  ;  he 
rayed  him  to  save  his  child.  “  Make  her  not 
,1  wanton,”  said  he;  “  tempt  her  not  to  vice  ; 
ring  not  down  my  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to 
he  grave.”  Son  of  man  !  did  ever  father 
lake  a  stronger  appeal?  Even  he  could  not 
esist  it  ;  he  promised,  and  made  the  promise 
ut  to  break  it.  Upon  the  faith  of  that  pro¬ 
mise,  the  husband  returns  to  console  his 
/retched  wife.  The  brother  comes  ;  the  first 
ling  he  sees,  is  this  fiend  with  his  victim  in 
is  toils  upon  the  public  square.  With  the 
oung  and  hot  blood  coursing  through  his 
eins,  I  wonder  that  he  did  not  smite  the  dis- 
onorer  of  his  house  as  he  found  him  engaged 
1  his  work  of  destruction.  There  is  though 


much  to  palliate  his  forbearance.  He  seeks 
him  openly  and  boldly  ;  there  is  no  stealth 
here.  He  says,  “  beware  !  you  have  been 
already  warned  ;  approach  my  sister  again  ; 
and  you  shall  feel  a  brother’s  vengeance.” 
The  liar  tells  him,  “  I  have  the  highest  re¬ 
spect  for  your  sister  and  there  is  nothing  im¬ 
proper  between  us.”  Again  he  lies — morn¬ 
ing,  noon,  and  night,  he  lies,  lies,  lies  !  his  life 
is  nothing  but  a  tissue  of  lies.  He  tells  Major 
Pollard  that  his  daughter  is  a  much  abused 
and  unhappy  wife.  Mark  now  the  stern  jus¬ 
tice  of  this  father,  which  is  in  keeping  with 
the  Roman  fortitude  and  Spartan  integrity 
that  he  has  displayed  upon  this  trial.  How 
does  he  answer  this  insidious  attempt  to  oper¬ 
ate  upon  his  paternal  feelings,  to  the  dispar¬ 
agement  of  an  honorable  friend  ?  He  says, 
“  my  childis  in  the  wrong  ;  and  if  she  is  un¬ 
happy,  it  is  her  own  fault.”  With  what  re¬ 
lentless  malice  this  man  pursued  my  unhappy 
client.  He  had  already  stolen  the  affections  of 
the  simple  wife,  and  now  he  tries  to  alienate 
the  father  and  the  son. 

On  the  8th  of  August  he  made  the  promise 
to  the  brother,  and  three  days  afterwards,  on 
the  1 1  th,  Mosby  tells  you  he  saw  this  deluded, 
unhappy  woman  locked  up  with  this  man  in 
No.  18  in  the  Exchange  Hotel  in  the  city  of 
Richmond.  Does  the  man  live  who  has  wit¬ 
nessed  such  reckless  depravity?  Deluding 
the  wife,  betraying  the  friend,  deceiving  the 
father  and  the  son,  almost  with  the  same 
breath,  and  at  the  same  moment. 

Observe  the  perfect  confirmation  of  Mos- 
by’s  testimony  that  one  of  these  letters  affords. 
He  says  he  tried  the  doors  of  No.  18 — he 
found  them  closed — he  suspected  something 
— he  followed  her — it  was  Mrs.  Myers — he 
returned  to  the  passage,  and  there  he  saw  the 
truth  telling ,  honorable ,  virtuous ,  Mr.  Hoyt, 
according  to  one  of  the  obituaries  of  the  day, 
making  his  escape  through  a  back  window  of 
the  apartment.  If  I  wanted  confirmation, 
Sir,  of  this  statement,  the  commonwealth  fur¬ 
nishes  it  to  me  in  the  letter  read  here,  that  was 
found  amongst  the  papers  of  Hoyt.  It  is 
from  Mrs.  Myers  to  him,  and  she  says,  I  am 
afraid  that  I  left  18  at  an  unpropitious  mo¬ 
ment.  There  were  persons  in  the  opposite 
room;  Mosby  stated  that  he  was  in  19.  She 
speaks  of  the  door  having  been  tried  twice; 
Mosby  said  he  tried  to  open  the  door  twice. 
She  says,  I  hope  you  didn’t  come  out  of  the 
same  door — and  Mosby  told  you,  that  he  saw 
him  creeping  out  through  the  back  window. 
Is  there  any  man  who  doubts,  who  can  doubt 
Mosby ’s  most  important  testimony,  confirmed 
as  it  is  by  this  letter,  the  existence  of  which 
was  unknown  to  him  until  it  was  nead  here? 
This  happened  when  the  tavern-keeper  was 
away.  Remember  that  the  principal  hotel  of 
your  city  has  been  used  as  the  house  of 
prostitution.  On  the  15th,  Boyden  returned; 
he  is  told  of  it,  but  the  meek  and  Joseph  like 
Mr.  Boyden  is  so  pure  himself,  that  he  cannot 
believe  it,  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the  scandal* 


32  TRIAL  OP  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


eras  tale.  This  is  Mr.  Boyden’s  statement  on 
Monday.  He  wouldn’t  believe  this  story,  be¬ 
cause  it  was  derived  by  Mosby  from  a  negro. 
But  on  Wednesday  he  comes  here,  and  makes 
an  appendix  to  his  testimony,  and  the  Mr. 
Boyden  of  Monday,  is  no  more  like  the  Mr. 
Boyden  of  Wednesday,  than  day  is  like  to 
night.  On  Wednesday,  he  comes  and  says, 
that  Mosby  told  him,  not  that  he  had  it  from 
a  servant,  but  that  he  himself  had  followed 
the  female  to  the  door,  and  found  it  to  be 
Mrs.  Myers.  He  would’nt  believe  the  ser¬ 
vant  ;  he  dares  not  say  he  wouldn’t  believe 
Mosby.  How  now  does  he  account  for  his 
indifference  to  the  character  of  his  house? 
Mr.  Lyons,  who  possesses  a  talent  for  that 
kind  of  work  which  I  have  never  seen  excel¬ 
led,  in  his  cross-examination  of  Monday,  took 
pretty  good  care  of  my  friend  Mr.  Boyden. 
He  felt  that  he  was  in  for  it,  and  on  Wednes¬ 
day  he  came  for  the  purpose  of  trying  to 
scuffle  out;  but  the  result  has  only  been  to 
sink  him  deeper  in.  Mr.  Lyons  used  Mr. 
Boyden  up  on  Monday,  and  what  was  left  of 
him  was  pretty  well  used  up  by  Mr.  Boyden 
himself  on  Wednesday.  On  Monday,  he  re¬ 
collected  nothing  of  any  interviews  between 
Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Myers.  On  Wednesday,  he 
remembers  two,  and  is  mindful  of  the  most 
minute  particulars  accompanying  them,  even 
to  the  making  of  a  carpet.  I  do  hope  that  a 
sentiment  is  fast  growing  up  in  this  commu¬ 
nity,  which  while  it  will  not  touch  a  hair  of 
his  head,  will  shorten  the  reign  of  the  Great 
Frederick  in  the  house  over  which  he  presides 
with  so  much  dignity  and  such  a  spirit  of 
accommodation. 

But  let  us  trace  this  guilty  pair.  Their 
meetings  become  more  frequent— sometimes 
in  18  sometimes  in  41 — the  husband  is  gone, 
the  sentinel  is  removed,  and  the  hotel  is 
kindly  thrown  open  to  them.  The  husband 
returns.  We  are  told  he  had  time  for  reflec¬ 
tion,  time  for  the  blood  to  cool.  Great  God ! 
did  not  every  moment  of  reflection  on  the 
mighty  wrong  he  had  suffered,  serve  only  to 
heat  the  blood,  and  kindle  his  wrath  against 
the  workers  of  his  dishonor?  He  is  at  length 
persuaded  to  approach  his  enemy  with  mercy 
on  his  brow.  His  peace  offering  is  received 
with  scorn  and  contempt.  He  is  betrayed 
and  then  laughed  at ;  he  is  scorned  and  defied. 
And  as  far  as  provocation  is  concerned,  is 
net  this  an  even  stronger  case,  than  that  of  the 
man  taken  in  the  act  of  adultery  ?  Does  the 
law  demand  the  blood  of  him  who  punishes 
the  violation  of  his  nuptial  couch?  I  do  not 
believe  it.  He  is  not  worthy  to  be  the  hus¬ 
band  of  a  virtuous  woman,  who  would  not 
have  slain  the  spoiler  on  the  spot. 

Give  me  a  jury  of  Virginians — any  jury 
of  men  who  have  hearts  to  feel — European 
or  Hindoo,  Fagan,  Christian,  or  Mahomme- 
dan,  Jew  or  Gentile,  and  I  will  acquit  the 
unfortunate  actor  in  this  scene  of  retributive 
justice.  Let  a  man  feel  himself  wronged  in 
that  point,  that  nature  and  education  tend  to 


make  nicer  than  any  other,  and  if  the  steel 
does  not  go  to  the  heart  of  the  wrong  doer 
it  is  because  he  is  a  coward,  and  a  coward -• 
never  yet  was  worthy  of  the  love  of  a  virtu¬ 
ous  woman.  Why,  sir,  if  a  man  violated 
your  bed  what  are  you  to  do?  Go  to  th(| 
law.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Prosecute  him  for 
misdemeanor!  The  law  will  let  him  off'  witl 
a  fine  of  twenty  dollars  and  a  gentle  admonij 
tion  to  behave  better  for  the  future.  Oh 
yes ;  apply  to  the  law  for  redress,  and  havi 
the  finger  of  scorn  pointed  at  you  as  you  gt 
along  the  streets;  the  contempt  of  women 
and  the  laughing  stock  of  men.  If  a  mat 
lays  hands  upon  you  and  robs  you  of  a  nine- 
pence,  the  law  says  kill  him  ;  but  if  he  robs 
you  of  your  wife,  wait  till  the  court  sits,  anc 
they’ll  fine  him  twenty  dollars — one  hall 
only  of  which,  by  the  way,  goes  to  the  in¬ 
former. 

Hoyt  lingered  twelve  days — calm,  ever 
facetious;  the  servants  of  God  attended  Lire 
and  ministered  to  his  spiritual  wants.  Hi 
protested  his  innocence  and  hers,  and  at  thai 
very  moment  where  were  those  letters  tha 
have  been  read  in  this  court?  Locked  up  iri 
his  desk,  rmarked  and  labelled,  ready  tc 
prove,  when  the  anticipated  day  came,  that 
he  was  innocent  and  that  she  was  guilty — tha 
he  had  been  wooed  and  won  by  her.  Tliis 
was  the  crowning  act  in  a  life  of  infamy  anc 
of  crime.  She  sacrificed  every  thing — wealth 
station,  character,  all  for  him;  and  he,  scoun 
drel  like,  left  these  testimonials  of  her  guilt  tc 
be  paraded  to  the  world ;  and  this  after  he 
had  written  to  her,  “destroy  my  letters,’ 
and  she,  woman  like,  had  done  it,  in  her  own 
eloquent  language,  “confidingly,  trustingly.' 

He  protested  his  innocence,  but  he  couldn't 
hold  out,  this  man  of  nerve.  Conscience  be¬ 
gan  to  thunder  in  his  ear;  God  cried,  guilt) 
or  not  guilty,  and  the  appalled  wretch  con¬ 
fesses  to  that  pious  man,  William  Nonvoed 
that  although  he  had  not  proceaded  to  the 
last  act  of  guilt  and  shame,  he  had  done 
enough  to  call  down  the  husband’s  vengeance 
on  his  head.  Yes,  sir;  the  grave  gives  up  its 
dead — the  shrouded  corpse  enters  the  portals 
of  this  court,  takes  his  place  on  the  witness 
stand,  and  tells  you,  I  have  maddened  this 
man  by  a  series  of  wrongs — I  have  stolen' 
from  him  his  most  precious  jewel,  and  he  was 
justifiable  in  the  act  that  he  committed.  The 
dead  man  bears  testimony,  and  yet  the  com¬ 
monwealth’s  attorney  won’t  believe  him;  and 
I  am  told  that  for  this  act  that  the  suffered 
himself  justified,  the  law  condemns  my  client 
and  the  brother,  and  the  friend,  to  a  felon’s 
grave.  I  am  the  father  of  sons,  and  if  the] 
grave  that  these  men  are  to  fill  is  stigmatised! 
by  that  name,  there  is  no  death  that  I  sej 
covet  for  them  as  that  by  which  they  may  filFj 
a  felon’s  grave. 

Affer  Mr.  Scott  had  taken  his  seat,  thel 
Commonwealth's  Attorney  arose,  and  address-1 
ed  a  few  forcible  and  pertinent  remarks  to  the/ 
Court.  He  begged  the  Mayor  to  consider  his 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


i  n  position  and  that  of  the  Court.  He  was 
finding  there  in  the  very  novel  attitude  of  a 
joresentative  of  the  Commonwealth  before  a 
immitting  magistrate;  and  that,  at  the  re- 
.<  est  of  the  Court.  Evidence  had  been  ad- 
i  tted  in  this  cause  against  his  solemn  and 
neated  protest,  under  the  decision  of  his 
.mor,  to  which  he  must  necessarily  bow, 
lit  all  the  testimony  should  be  heard  to  be 
ited,  and  separated  afterwards.  Under 
t;se  circumstances  it  was  that  he  was  called 
to  answer  the  arguments  and  passionate 
B  peals  of  the  opposite  counsel,  many  of 
n  ich  were  based  upon  this  illegal  evidence, 
’hen  this  cause  came,  as  unhappily  it  must 
me,  before  a  higher  tribunal,  he  would  then 
fcpear  in  the  position  which  his  office  assign - 

<  him,  and  then  he  hoped  that  by  the  en- 
tt  cement  of  the  legal  rules  of  evidence,  this 
iongruous  mass  of  testimony,  would  be  re¬ 
seed  to  a  tangible  and  palpable  form.  Mr. 
iiyo  begged  the  Mayor  to  remember  that  he 
its  only  sitting  as  a  committing  magistrate, 
n  ose  duty  it  was,  simply  to  discharge,  if  the 

lividual  arrested  was  entirely  free  from  sus- 
ion.  This  he  contended  to  be  the  whole 
Beet  which  the  law  had  in  view  in  the  insti- 
tii  of  this  proceeding;  not  that  the  com- 
aiting  magistrate  should  decide  upon  the 
ijilt  of  the  accused,  but  simply  to  ascertain 
i  hero  was  sufficient  ground  of  suspicion  to 
title  the  Commonwealth  to  a  trial.  To 
q  we  the  truth  of  this  position,  he  referred  to 
i*)ickinson’s  Justice,”  and  several  other  au- 
Jt'rities  already  cited  in  the  course  of  the 
k  imination.  That  ground  for  suspicion  ex- 
ri  :d  in  this  case,  there  could  not  be  a  shadow 
1  doubt;  and  that  it  extended  to  all  thepar- 
jti,  was  equally  certain.  The  Court  had 
it  in  asked  to  separate  the  case  of  Burr  and 
!  tnuel  S.  Myers  from  that  of  Wm.  K.  Myers. 
•/.  e  first  two  at  least,  it  is  said,  have  been  cn- 
f  ;ed  in  no  unlawful  act.  Was  it  not  an  un- 
lfnl  act,  he  asked,  to  go  to  Hoyt’s  room 
:t  force  him  to  sign  a  paper  of  any  sort, 
ill  ch  less  such  a  one  as  that  exhibited  in  this 
(art?  Will  younot  infer  a  conspiracy  from 
t  j  co-operation  in  this  most  unlawful  pro¬ 
ve  ding?  If  peace  was  intended  why  did  not 
Bit  go  alone?  AVhy  did  not  Samuel  S. 
3  ers  go  alone?  So  far  from  being  less 
E  lty  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  these  two  men 
i;t  the  more  condemnable,  for  they  at  least 
1  ked  the  provocation  that  might  be  pleaded 
f  the  other  party. 

Jr.  Mayo  denied  that  he  bad  requested  the 
k  art  to  discard  the  dying  declarations  of 
U  vt;  he  had  only  declined  to  consider  them 
jl  iself,  because  they  were  unnecessary  to 
( iblish  the  only  point  that  this  Court  had 
i  r  right  to  consider,  the  degree  of  suspicion 
*  f  t  attached  to  these  parties.  Feeling  fully 

<  npetent  to  make  out  a  case  for  the  Com- 
il  nwealth  without  the  evidence  of  Hoyt,  he 
3t  5  careful  to  abstain  from  opening  the  way 
t  he  unmeasured  denunciations  that  he  knew 
tre  ready  to  be  heaped  upon  this  unfortu¬ 


3-8 

nate  man.  God  forbid  that  he  should  stand 
there  the  justifier  of  Hoyt ;  but  the  man  was  in 
his  grave  now,  and  he  did  think  that  in  some 
respects  injustice  had  been  dono  to  his  memo¬ 
ry.  He  hoped  that  the  public,  to  whom  the 
chief  part  of  the  really  eloquent  speeches  of 
the  prisoners’  counsel  had  been  addressed, 
would  not  be  misled  by  their  assertions  of 
what  constituted  the  law  of  the  land.  He 
hoped  at  a  proper  time,  and  in  a  proper  place, 
to  show  that  these  principles  were  false;  that 
the  law  did  not  permit  an  excited  individual 
to  redress  his  own  wrongs,  and  to  reek  his 
hands  in  the  blood  of  a  citizen,  whenever  he 
might  think  that  he  had  sufficient  provocation 
for  doing  so.  Even  the  killing  an  adulterer 
caught  in  the  act,  is  not,  in  the  eye  of  the 
law,  a  justifiable  homicide;  and  the  degree  of 
provocation  which  will  reduce  murder  to  man¬ 
slaughter,  is  for  a  jury  to  determine;  the  pro¬ 
vince  of  this  Court  is  simply  to  inquire  whe¬ 
ther  a  homicide  has  been  committed,  and 
whether  such  a  degree  of  suspicion  rests  upon 
the  prisoners  at  the  bar,  as  to  justify  their 
being  sent  on  for  trial  by  a  higher  tribunal. 

For  the  venerable  father,  Mr.  Mayo  said, 
who  appeared  in  this  court,  bowed  down  with 
a  iveight  of  grief,  that  happily  it  seldom  falls 
to  the  lot  of  man  to  endure,  he  entertained 
the  most  heartfelt  sympathy  ;  as  indeed  he 
did  for  the  prisoners  themselves,  who  were 
all  his  neighbors  and  friends  ;  but  that  no 
consideration  of  sympathy  or  of  friendship 
could  restrain  him  in  the  discharge  of  his 
duty  ;  and  that  duty  imperatively  demanded 
that  he  should  ask  that  the  accused  be  sent  on 
for  farther  trial. 

This  closed  the  arguments  of  counsel,  and 
the  Mayor  in  a  few  moments  pronounced  his 
decision  in  the  following  words. 

I  am  called  upon  to  discharge  the  most 
painful  duty  of  my  official  life;  and  if  I  could 
separate  the  man  from  the  officer,  I  would 
say,  that  the  opinions  of  the  last  thirty  years 
of  my  life,  lead  me  to  sympathise  deeply  with 
the  parties  before  me,  with  one  of  them  (allud¬ 
ing  to  Col.  Myers,)  I  have  been  on  terms  of 
intimacy  for  years,  and  during  this  investiga¬ 
tion,  I  have  heard  nothing  but  that  which  has 
heightened  my  admiration  of  his  character. 
Of  the  others  I  know  less  ;  but  if  the  injury 
which  has  been  inflicted  upon  one  of  them, 
had  been  inflicted  on  me,  once  a  husband  and 
now  a  father,  if  I  know  myself,  I  believe  I 
would  have  done  as  he  has.  But  as  an  officer, 
the  stern  decree  of  the  law  forbids  my  inves 
tigating  the  justifying  circumstances  of  this 
case,  and  in  obedience  to  its  dictates,  I  send 
the  accused  before  a  higher  tribunal. 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoners  then  atkecl 
that  they  might  be  admitted  to  bail,  in  the 
highest  penalty  that  the  court  should  see  fit 
to  impose  ;  they  grounded  their  request  upon 
the  peculiar  hardship  that  confinement  in  jail 
imposed  upon  two  of  the  prisoners  ;  they 
were  the  sole  partners  in  a  very  extensive 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


S4 

business  which  must  suffer  severely  in  their 
absence  ;  whereby  others  and  innocent  par¬ 
ties  with  whom  they  had  heavy  transactions, 
might  be  made  to  suffer  in  their  business  re¬ 
lations.  They  contended  that  the  question  of 
bail  was  one,  that,  even  in  the  highest  grade 
of  offences,  was  left  to  the  discretion  of  the 
Judge. 

The  Mayor  replied,  that  he  knew  he  could 
exercise  the  power ,  but  he  did  not  think  that 
under  the  circumstances  he  had  the  right  to 
bail  the  parties  ;  and  they  were  accordingly 
remanded  to  await  their  trial  before  a  court 


of  magistrates,  called  for  the  21st  of  Octobei 
1846. 

The  law  of  Virginia  provides,  that  after  th 
committal  of  a  prisoner  for  the  commission  c 
a  felony,  a  court,  consisting  of  at  least  fiv 
magistrates,  shall  be  called  to  sit  in  not  let 
than  five  nor  more  than  ten  days;  whose  pre 
vince  it  shall  be  to  examine  into  the  case,  an 
either  acquit  the  accused  or  send  him  on  fc 
trial  before  a  jury,  at  the  next  Superic 
Court,  which  sits  only  twice  a  year.  A 
acquittal  by  the  called  court  of  magistrate 
is  final. 


APPENDIX. 


I  The  following  letters,  together  with  the 
one  dated  “  Alta  Vista,  June  17,”  were  found 
amongst  the  papers  of  Mr.  Hoyt,  and  were 
offered  iu  evidence  upon  the  part  of  the 
Commonwealth.  They  have  been  arranged 
as  near  as  possible  in  the  order  in  Which  they 
were  written,  although,  being  generally  with¬ 
out  date,  it  has  been  necessary  sometimes  to 
guess  at  the  period  of  their  reception. 

No.  1. 

[This  appears  from  the  contents  to  have 
been  the  first  letter  addressed  by  Mrs. 
Myers  to  Hoyt.  This  and  the  two  following 
are  supposed  to  refer  to  a  very  intimate  ac¬ 
quaintance  with  whom  Mrs.  Myers  was  in  the 
habit  of  corresponding,  who  was  also  an  in¬ 
timate  friend  of  Hoyt.] 

Wednesday,  Dec.  3,  1845. 

I  trust  you  will  pardon  the  liberty  I  take 
in  writing  you.  and  the  still  greater  liberty  of 
begging  the  favor  of  you  to  call  here  to-mor¬ 
row  at  1  o’clock.  I  am  most  anxious  to  see 
you,  on  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  myself — a  subject  which  you  can  readily 
imagine,  and  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  ex¬ 
plain  myself  by  writing,  I  should  do  so,  and 
thus  spare  you  the  necessity  of  seeing  me  in 
person ;  for  I  fear  this  necessity  may  be  an 
unpleasant  one  to  you.  I  know  you  will 
have  some  scruples  as  to  my  request,  but  I 
appeal  to  your  kindness  of  heart,  and  I  know 
the  appe  al  will  not  be  in  vain.  If  you  will 
be  so  kind  as  to  call  at  one  o’clock  to-mor¬ 
row,  you  will  find  me  alone,  and  I  will  tell 
you,  in  a  few  words,  the  circumstances  which 
it  is  so  necessary  for  me  to  confide  to  you 
May  I  beg  the  kindness  of  you  to  forgive  me 
for  this  note,  for  I  have  hesitated  to  send  it, 
fearing  you  might  blame  me  for  so  doing; 
yet,  when  you  know  the  cause,  I  am  assured 
you  will  pardon  me.  What  I  have  written 
is  strictly  confidential,  and  knowing  your 
high,  noble  sense  of  honor,  I  need  say  no  | 


more.  Although  I  have  not  the  pleasure  < 
your  acquaintance,  yet,  believe  me,  I  am  or 
of  your  warmest  and  most  sincere  friends,  f< 
I  can  never  forget  the  kindness  you  have  show 
me,  and  only  hope  at  some  future  day  it  ma: 
he  in  my  power  to  return  them.  I  send  th 
by  my  brother.  Of  course  he  is  ignorant . 
its  contents,  and  I  send  it  by  him  as  I  a: 
afraid  to  trust  it  to  one  of  my  own  servant' 
He  is  under  the  impression  I  am  acquaint* 
with  you,  and  therefore  gladly  obliges  me  b 
delivering  this  to  you.  Again  I  beg  yoi 
forgiveness,  and  assure  you  I  am  always  yoi 
friend.  Virginia  M - . 

No.  2. 

Monday,  Dec.  8,  1845. 

Much  to  my  regret,  to-day  is  so  very  ii 
clement,  that  I  shall  not  have  the  pleasure  i 
seeing  you,  as  I  expected;  but  to-morrow 

shall  go  with  Miss  C - to  Moran’s  room 

where  I  shall  hope  to  meet  you.  You  we 
so  kind  as  to  promise  to  direct  and  mail 
letter  for  me,  therefore,  may  I  beg  the  goo 
ness  of  you  to  call  here  at  1  o’clock  on  We 
nesday,  when  I  will  give  it  to  you,  and  I  al 
wish  to  see  you  relative  to  it.  Of  court 
after  we  are  introduced,  you  can  call  witho 
exciting  suspicion.  I  trust  you  will  not  thii 
me  imposing  on  your  goodness  by  makii 
this  request,  and  you  will  pardon  me  for  t! 
liberty  I  take  in  addressing  you  this  nob 
Believe  me,  I  should  not  feel  justified  in 
doing,  were  I  not  assured  that  in  your  hig 
noble  sense  of  honor  I  can  place  the  utmej 
confidence.  I  can  never  find  words  to  ei 
press  to  you  the  gratitude  I  owe  you,  and  f 
exalted  admiration  I  must  ever  hold  you  i 
for  you  have  shown  to  me  a  friendship  I  shi 
ever  prize,  and  which  nothing  on  earth  ci 
ever  cause  me  to  forget.  I  fear  sometimes 
have  increased  your  condemnation  in  a  ct 
tain  matter,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  we; 
you  acquainted  with  all  the  circumstance 


TRIAL  OP  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


could  I  tell  you  the  many  trials  and  sorrows 
to  which  I  have  been  subjected,  how  uncall¬ 
ed  for,  unappreciated  I  am;  could  I  explain 
all  to  you,  I  do  know,  instead  of  blaming  me, 
your  feelings  would  be  sincerest  sympathy 
for  me — pity  for  me,  so  wronged,  and  yet  so 
purely  innocent.  But  why  should  I  intrude 
on  you  my  feelings?  forgive  me  the  intru¬ 
sion,  but  always  believe  me  most  gratefully 
yours.  Virginia  M - . 

Knowing  I  should  have  no  opportunity  of 
'speaking  with  you,  to  ask  you  to  call  for  my 
tetter,  I  have  been  compelled  to  trouble  you 
with  this,  and  fearing  to  send  it  by  a  servant, 
f  send  it  through  the  post  office,  thinking  it 
safest.  Again  I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  in¬ 
trusion.  V. 

You  see  I  have  not  directed  this  letter  my¬ 
self,  at  least  to  all  appearances  I  have 
sot,  but  appearances  are  sometimes  decep¬ 
tive. 


No.  3. 

Pridat,  Dec.  12,  1845. 

Prom  your  note,  I  find  you  were  mistaken, 
regarding  the  information  I  wished  to  obtain. 
I  wanted  to  know  the  time  it  required  for  a 
letter  to  reach  here  from  Detroit;  for  on 
reading  my  friend’s  letter  more  carefully,  I 
'5ud  he  wili  write  from  Detroit,  and  I  imag¬ 
ine  you  understood  me  as  wishing  to  know 
he  time  from  Chicago.  Could  you  let  me 
mow  the  number  of  days  from  Detroit,  for  I 
xm  anxious  to  ascertain  as  accurately  as  pos¬ 
sible,  for  I  must  be  at  home  the  day  after  the 
letter  arrives  according  to  our  agreement. 
Were  It  not  that  this  was  important,  I  would 
lot  trouble  you  again,  but  I  think  you  may 
’orgive  me  for  so  doing.  After  you  left  the 
other  day,  I  feared  you  might  have  thought  I 
did  wrong  in  speaking  to  you  so  freely  and 
unreservedly,  bnt  really  I  felt  so  sad  and  dis- 
spirited,  that  it  was  a  relief  to  me  to  speak 
iwithyoa  on  a  subject  which  I  would  not  even 
i  ireathe  to  another  person,  for  I  feel  that  none 
would  understand  the  purity  of  my  feelings; 
he  perfect  propriety  of  every  action.  But 
(jso  you,  I  felt  I  might  speak  with  all  confi- 
ience,  for  in  your  noble  and  generous  heart 
i  knew  all  would  be  appreciated,  and  was  I 
not  right  in  thus  believing?  Yes,  I  feel  that 

Ion  this  subject,  I  might  always  repose  every 
;onfidence  in  you,  that  I  may  speak  to  you, 
:andidly  and  freely,  for  I  know  with  you  I 
i(vill  find  kindness  and  sympathy.  Others 
nay  blame  me,  denounce  me,  but  you  I  think 
lever  will,  for  you  know  all,  and  you  cannot 
ilame  me — and  moreover,  I  wished  your  ad¬ 
vice  in  a  certain  matter,  and  there  was  no 
pne  to  whom  I  could  go,  save  yourself,  for 
you  have  extended  to  me  kindness,  when  I 
pad  no  claim  on  you.  Pray  forgive  me,  if  I 
!,;ake  a  liberty  in  addressing  you,  as  a  dear 
friend,  for  believe  me,  ’tis  a  privilege  I  prize 
most  highly,  and  one  I  hope  you  will  never 
deprive  me  of.  You  must  not  forget  your 


35 

promise  to  come  and  see  me,  for  if  you  do 
not  come,  I  shall  not  be  as  I  now  am. 

Your  very  best  and  warmest  friend, 

Virginia  M - . 

Should  a  letter  come  for  me  on  the  25th 
or  26th,  of  course  keep  it,  on  those  days  I  shall 
not  he  alone. 

No.  4. 

Dec.  31st,  1845. 

May  I  beg  your  acceptance  of  the  accom¬ 
panying  gage  d’amitie  ?  ’Tis  indeed  a  trifle— 
yet  I  pray  you  receive  it,  coming  fx-om  a 
heart  which  you  have  drawn  so  strongly  to¬ 
wards  you  by  a  kindness  and  sympathy  never 
to  be  forgotten— a  heart  whose  every  feeling 
has  been  confided  to  you  with  an  unreserve, 
a  trust,  I  could  never  repose  in  any  save 
your  own  noble  and  generous  bosom,  and 
may  I  not,  my  best  of  friends,  ask  you  to 
prize  it  as  a  memento  of  one  whose  hours  of 
darkness  and  sadness  you  have  brightened  by 
your  words  of  goodness,  of  kindness— -one 
who  will  remember  you  with  feelings  of  the 
deepest  gratitude;  feelings  as  fond,  as  endur¬ 
ing  as  those  I  would  bear  my  own  brother, 
for  with  you,  my  dearest  friend,  I  feel  the 
same  unreservedness,  the  same  freedom  of 
intercourse  as  if  you  stood  in  that  relation 
towards  me. 

Praying  you  may  at  least  not  reject  my 
offering,  I  now  tender  you  many  greetings  of 
the  New  Year.  With  me,  ’tis  fraught  with 
sadness,  for  you  know  the  future  has  no  hope 
for  me,  dark  and  drear,  nothing  to  illumine 
its  desolateness,  yet  I  pi-ay  you  may  always 
be  happy,  the  sky  of  your  destiny  ever  re¬ 
main,  as  it  now  is,  unclouded  and  bright. 
This  shall,  I  assure  you,  be  my  most  earnest 
and  heartfelt  wish.  Always  receive  me,  as  I 
am,  your  warmest,  your  verv  best  friend, 

VIRGINIA. 

No.  5. 

[The  following  is  without  date,  but  is  pro¬ 
bably  the  next  in  order.] 

My  dearest  and  best  friend,  now  don’t 
scold  me  for  what  I  am  going  to  write  you. 
This  morning  I  received  a  note  from  the  lady 
with  whom  I  am  to  go  visiting,  saying  if  con¬ 
venient  to  me  she  would  prefer  my  going  on 
Monday  instead  of  Tuesday  as  we  had  in¬ 
tended.  Now,  mon  cher  amie,  won’t  you 
come  Tuesday  ?  because  if  you  cannot  come 
that  day,  I  will  excuse  myself  to  her;  for  on 
no  account  on  earth,  would  I  lose  the  plea- 
sureof  seeing  you.  But  you  will  come  won’t 
you  ?  I  had  anticipated  so  much  delight,  on 
seeing  you  Monday,  that  I  cannot  now  bear 
to  give  up  this  happiness,  and  I  will  not  un¬ 
less  you  promise  certainly  to  come  Tuesday. 
This  postponement  of  one  day  seems  very, 
very  long  to  me,  and  I  do  hope  it  may  seem 
so  to  you;  for  that  would  be  gratifying  in¬ 
deed  ;  hence  mind  come,  dear  triend,  on 
Tuesday,  and  we  (at  least  I)  will  be  so  agree¬ 
able  and  happy — won’t  we  ?  All  Monday,  I 


36 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


shall  be  thinking  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you,  and  I  hope  time  may  pass  quickly  till  our 
meeting.  Don’t  laugh  at  this  note,  for  I  have 
written  it  just  from  my  heart,  and  as  it  is  for 
your  own  partial  eyes  (I  hope  so)  I  won’t 
beg  your  pardon  but  just  tell  you  I  am  just 
the  same  towards  you  as  an  own  sister,  am  I 
not?  Do  come,  if  you  don’t,  how  I  will  scold 
you. 

No.  6. 

1  cannot  keep  your  servant  waiting  for 
my  answer,  though  I  feel,  dearest,  as  if  I 
could  write  you  for  hours.  Thank  you  bc- 
lovedone,  for  your  precious  words,  I  have 
just  read,  and  kissed  it,  oh  !  you  know  how 
fervently.  Come  dbarest  on  Monday  at  12 
o’clock,  instead  of  1  o’clock,  as  1  first  wrote 
you.  I  feel  so  miserable,  that  it  is  no  enjoy¬ 
ment  for  me  to  go  to  the  Theatre;  yet,  dear¬ 
est,  I  will  go  to-morrow  night,  if  only  to  rest 
my  eyes  on  your  deal-  face,  and  with  one 
glance  tell  you  how  wholly  I  love  you.  Do 
not  come  in  our  box  till  about  the  middle  of 
the  Ballet  and  then  you  can  remain  till  the 
close.  But  do  not  go  to  the  carriage  with  me. 
Adieu,  dearest,  only  time  to  say  yours  for¬ 
ever. 

No.  7. 

[The  following  was  probably  written  in 
the  month  of  April.] 

Now,  dearest,  please  tell  me  what  I  shall 
do?  If  I  remain,  I  expect  I  shall  have  to  go 
with - ,  for  his  whole  family  seemed  deter¬ 

mined  on  it,  and  Mr.  M.  is  particularly  anx¬ 
ious.  I  know  not  what  to  make  of  it — I  only 
know  I  have  a  horror  or  dread  of  him,  and 
traveling  under  his  protection  is  awful  to  me. 
Then  I  prefer  staying  at  a  boarding  house  to 

Airs.  - ’s,  but  there  I  should  be  thrown 

with  persons  I  care  nothing  about,  and  then 
I  should  be  dependent  on  young  men,  on  go¬ 
ing  out,  entirely,  and  there  are  some,  I  know, 
would  take  advantage  of  it,  being  friends  of 
Mr.  Myers.  There  are  objections  to  remain¬ 
ing;  and  yet,  dearest,  I  cannot  leave  you,  .and  : 
if  yox  will  not  go  with  me  I  must  remain ; 
but  if  I  remain  I  may  be  compelled  to  go 

with - .  Do,  dearest  love,  tell  me  what  I 

shall  do — for  you  know,  darling,  my  happi¬ 
ness  consists  in  obeying  your  very  wish — and 
this  is  what  I  call  devoted  love.  Only  think, 
dearest,  and  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  feel  so 
weak,  so  badly,  that  I  fear  I  could  not  under¬ 
go  the  fntiguc  of  traveling;  and  then  I  think 
of  staying  here  all  the  time — but  again,  I 
have  a  motive  in  going  to  New  York,  which  I 
cannot  relinquish.  What  to  do  I  do  not  know. 
Do  advise  me,  dearest,  for  I  must  determine 
now  in  a  few  days.  I  have  invitations  from 

- ’s  family  to  remain  with  them,  but  these 

invitations  I  care  not  to  accept;  however,  I 
am  grateful  for  them,  for  they  show  me  that 
there  are  some  here  who  consider  me  more 
worthy  of  their  acquaintance  than  does  the 
standard  of  propriety — Doctor  Carmichael 


and  daughter.  They  at  least  think  me  tvor*  i 
thy  of  being  an  inmate  of  their  household. 
But  darling  forgive  me — I  have  uttered 
words  unfitting  for  me;  I  forgot  how  desolate 
I  am,  and  how  utterly  unworthy  the  lowest 
of  God’s  creatures.  I  forgot  my  unworthi¬ 
ness. — There  are  those  who  love  me,  and  tell 
me  I  am  all  pure,  all  angelic.  They  would 
fain  make  me  believe  I  was  a  very  angel,  so 
lfigh  do  I  stand  in  their  estimation;  but  I 
pray  God  always  to  keep  me  thus  low  and 
humbled,  and.  that  I  never  may  forget  how 
desolate,  how  lonely  I  am  in  this  world.  I 
once  too  had  pride,  but  alas !  my  God !  it  has 
been  withered,  crushed  forever.  Dearest,  I 
will  tell  you  something  if  you  promise  not  to 
be  angry  with  me.  I  heard  last  night  of  a 

scene  between  you  and - .  The  last  night 

- was  in  town,  you  see,  it  was  observed,  I 

as  the  person  who  told  me  overheard  the  con¬ 
versation.  She  was  wishing  for  something  it 
was  impossible  for  her  to  get.  On  her  de-  , 
parture,  you  instantly  said,  “  Do  allow  me 
the  exquisite  happiness  of  procuring  it  for 
you,  and  I  will  send  it  to  you;  and  may  I  not 
write  you? — ’twill  be  such  happiness  for  me 
to  write  to  one  who  has  elicited  from  me  feel¬ 
ings  I  never  before  experienced?”  She  con¬ 
sented — you  got  a  card  and  took  her  address. 
Now,  dearest,  remember,  I  don’t  say  one 
word.  Think  what  yonr  feelings  would  be  , 
to  hear  this  of  me.  Mine  are  the  very  same 
as  yours  would  be.  This  person  said  to  me, 
evidently  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  what  ef¬ 
fect  it  would  have:  “  Could  you  have  seen  the 
tenderness  and  devotion  of  his  manner,  you 
would  have  agreed  with  me  he  was  despe-  j 
rately  in  love;  but  then  she  is  so  rich — we  1 
none  of  us  could  resist.”  I  replied,  “  If  you 
think  this  of  Mr.  Hoyt,  you  do  not  know  | 
him,  for  I  am  sure  he  loves  her  for  herself] 
alone,  and  thinks  not  once  of  her  wealth,  j 
He  has  too  much  nobleness  of  feeling  for  j 
this.”  Of  course  I  was  to  be  bantered  about  j 
taking  yonr  part  so  warmly.  What  my  feel-  j 
ings  were  they  could  not  see,  but  you  know  I 
well,  dearest,  what  they  were,  and  it  is  but 
natural  I  should  have  these  feelings — you 
would  have  the  very  same.  Dearest,  part  of 
this  letter  has  been  written  in  tears ;  they  are  ' 
holy  ones,  shed  for  you.  Read  this  letter,! 
dearest,  ere.  you  retire  to-night;  also  one  par-  j 

ticular  one  I  wrote  you  while - was  here.  I 

You  may  remember  it,  for  it  was  written  in  I 
the  despair  of  love,  when  I  was  so  wretched  a 
that  life  itself  was  almost  taken.  Will  you  I 
read  it,  just  ere  you  retire?  I  ask  it  as  an  U 
especial  request.  Dearest,  will  it  not  prompt  fl 
you  to  send  me  a  kind  note  to-morrow?  Dear  Ij 
love,  write  me  exactly  as  you  feel,  and  then  j 
it  will  make  me  either  happy  or  miserable. 
With  you  it  rests.  At  1  o’clock  to-morrow.  I 
Does  not  this  deserve  a  long  reply.  Will  you 
ever  have  patience  to  read  this  volume?  Oh,  I 
yes!  for  ’tis  from  a  loving,  true,  pure  heart. 


TRIAL'OE  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


No.  8. 

[The  following  is  supposed  to  be  the  letter 
Mrs.  Myers  referred  to  in  the  above,  and 
which  she  so  strongly  insisted  on  Hoyt’s 
reading  before  he  retired  for  the  night :] 

Saturday,  5  o’clock. 

My  God!  my  God  I  what  am  I  not  suffer¬ 
ing?  Agony,  yes,  tenfold  agony.  May  I  not 
still  call  you  dear,  dearest  love  ?  for,  oh,  you 
are  so  in  the  fullest  meaning  of  these  words. 
Yes,  dear  one,  I  must  speak  with  you  now 
openly,  freely;  for,  oh,  I  can  no  longer  en¬ 
dure  the  agonizing  suspense,  this  torturing 
anxiety.  If  there  should  be  one  word  here 
to  give  you  pain,  oh,  my  darling  one,  forgive, 
for  you  know  not  the  withering  anguish  which 
is  consuming  my  inmost  soul.  Rather,  be¬ 
loved  than  give  you  one  pang,  I  would  sooner 
die.  Therefore,  dearest,  remember  this,  and 
pardon  a  poor,  forsaken,  heart-broken  wo¬ 
man.  Darling  of  my  very  life,  I  now  kneel 
to  you.  I  entreat  you,  in  the  name  of  mercy, 
to  be  candid  with  me.  Oh,  deceive  me  not, 
as  I  now  stand  on  the  very  brink  of  perdition. 
Tell  me,  I  implore  you,  tell  me,  are  your 
feelings  changed  towards  me?  From  your 
remark  and  conduct  this  morning,  I  inferred 
this — that  you  felt  your  feelings  had  under¬ 
gone  a  change.  You  almost  feared  the  effect 
this  intelligence  might  have  on  me,  and  you 
could  not  find  it  in  your  heart  to  inflict  this 
wound.  Oh,  dearest,  let  not  these  feelings 
deter  you  from  acting  towards  me  candidyl. 
Deceive  me  not.  I  appreciate,  dear  one, 
your  kind,  noble  heart,  which  prompts  you  to 
act  thus.  This,  too,  proves  to  me  yorrr  true 
nobleness  of  character,  which  I  have  always 
known  you  to  possess.  But,  dear  love,  I  can¬ 
not  remain  in  this  state  of  bitter,  awful  sus¬ 
pense.  Oh,  could  you  know  the  very  anguish 
I  am  now  enduring,  you  would  at  least  pity 
me.  poor  wretch  as  I  am.  Dearest,  this  is  a 
subject  I  cannot  speak  on,  and  therefore  I 
write.  Oh,  my  God,  loved  one,  let  me  not 
remain  long  in  this  state  of  agony,  or  else  I 
am  lost  forever.  Fear  not  to  tell  me,  dear 
one,  for  when  all  have  deserted  me,  God 
will  take  me  to  himself.  Th'ink  not,  dearest, 
I  will  complain,  or  reproach  you.  No!  no! 
I  cannot — I  will  not.  Dear  one,  ’tis  my  fate 
to  be  desolate,  and,  oh,  my  God,  help  me  ere 
1  perish.  .It  is  not  strange,  dear,  that  you 
should  change  towards  me.  No!  no!  for  I 
am  too  poor  and  desolate  for  any  one  to  love 
—much  less  a  being  like  thine  own  dear  self. 
No  one,  no  one  loves  me.  Every  one  in  this 
wide  world  has  forsaken  me,  and  then,  oh, 
dear  one,  how  can  I  blame  you  for  changing? 
No!  no!  dearest,  I  blame  you  not.  Dear 
one,  I  only  pray  to  God  that  he  will  shew 
you  how  I  love  you.  I  have  no  power  to  do 
so.  But,  darling,  won’t  you  sometimes  think 
of  me?  Think  of  alllhave  suffered,  and  at 
least  I  may  know  I  have  thy  pity.  That  will 
be  one  sweet  drop  in  the  bitter  cup  of  sorrow 
which  I  have  drained  to  the  very  dregs. — 
Have  I  done  nothing,  suffered  nothing,  aban¬ 


3? 

doned  nothing  for  thee?  Oh  God,  I  have 
given  up  the  whole  world  for  thee,  I  have 
loved  thee  till  I  can  nought  else  beside  thee. 
I  have  no  other  God  but  thee.  To  none  but 
thee  have  I  bowed  down  and  worshipped. 
Thy  bosom  is  mine  altar,  and  now  I  offer  up 
myself  a  sacrifice  to  thee.  Oh  God,  dearest, 
I  love  thee — love  thee — madly  love  thee. 
Thou  hast  drank  my  heart  dry  of  all  love — 
thou  art  more  to  me  than  earth  or  heaven. 
They  have  given  me  but  life,  thou  gavest  me 
love.  Yes,  when  I  was  all  alone  in  this  world, 
miserable,  wretched,  thou,  dear  angel,  came 
tome.  Thou  bid’st  me  live,  and,  oh,  when 
thou  told’st  me  of  love,  then,  then  wan  this 
being  made  new.  I  lived,  as  it  were,  in  a 
world  of  joy,  of  bliss.  Yes,  dearest,  the  few 
brief  months  I  have  known  thee  I  have  been 
happier  than  I  ever  dreamed  it  was  possible 
to  be;  for  what  greater  happiness  is  taerfc 
than  thy  love?  Oh,  dearest,  I  can  never — ■ 
never  forget  all  your  kindness  to  me.  When 
I  was  wretched,  forsaken,  you  were  the  dear 
one  who  made  me  happy.  You  taught  me  to 
love  life,  for  you  made  that  life  a  heaven. 
Forget  it?  no!  not  e’en  in  death.  Dearest, 
when  I  have  so  often  asked  you  if  you  loved 
me,  it  was  not  because  I  doubted  thee,  but 
those  very  words  from  thy  lips,  ‘I  love  thee,’ 
gave  me  such  feelings  of  rapture;  for  I  can¬ 
not  know  too  often  of  my  bliss.  This,  dar¬ 
ling,  made  me  so  often  say,  “Love,  do  you 
love  me?”  But,  dearest,  why  dwell  on  these 
moments,  the  memory  of  which  almost 
drives  me  mad?  Now,  dearest,  once  more  I 
appeal  to  you  in  the  name  of  heaven,  if  you 
have  changed  towards  me — tell  me  fra*  kly, 
freely.  I  had  rather  be  relieved  of  this  awful 
suspense  and  die,  for  there  in  the  grave,  at 
least,  is  peace.  Think  not,  dearest,  I  will 
blame  you  for  deserting  a  poor  being  it,  ut¬ 
terly  unhappy.  If  you  are  still  mine  own, 
my  beloved,  oh,  say  so,  and  you  bring  to  this 
heart  the  very  joy  of  heaven.  Good  uight, 
love.  My  God,  what  a  night  of  agony  in  be¬ 
fore  me.  But  I  will  lie  awake,  and  pray  hea¬ 
ven  not  to  take  you  from  me,  and  that  will 
give  me  some  relief. 

Sunday,  6  o’clock. 

God  of  mercy,  give  me  strength  to  write 
you  what  I  have  this  day  heard.  Now  nil  is 
explained,  and  now  I  understand  why-  you 
made  those  remarks  to  me  on  Saturday — re¬ 
marks  which  rent  my  heart  in  twain.  To-day 
I  have  heard  all.  I  have  not  time  to  irrite 
fully,  for  I  have  but  a  moment’s  leisure  A 
friend  called  to  see  me,  and  I  saw  from  his 
manner  and  conversation  he  had  something 
to  say  particularly.  Immediately  he  intro¬ 
duced  you — and  think,  my  God!  what  were 
my  feelings,  when  he  told  me  the  following: 
He  says,  there  has  been  at  the  Exchange  a 

certain  lady,  by  name  Miss - ,  whom 

you  were  introduced  to  and  took  at  first  a 
desperate  fancy  to.  After  a  few  days  this 
fancy  ripened  into  love,  and  ere  she  left  you 
offered  her  your  heart,  and  hand.  White  she 


38 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


was  at  the  Exchange,  your  attentions  to  her 
were  so  marked  as  to  be  the  subject  of  gene¬ 
ral  remark.  You  shut  up  your  office  the 
whole  morning,  and  sate  with  her  till  dinner 
was  announced.  The  evening  and  night  the 
same  devoted  attention — every  moment  by 
her  side.  You  first  made  your  feelings  known 
to  her  by  presenting  her  with  a  flower.  All 
the  circumstances  were  detailed  to  me  most 
minutel}'.  You  requested  her  permission  to 
write  to  her  while  she  would  be  in  New  York, 
and  when  'She  returns  to  Louisiana  she  will 
again  be  at  the  Exchange.  All  this  I  hoard, 
partly  from  a  friend,  and  partly  by  a  letter. 
The  letter  told  me  every  circumstance,  which 
I  received  yesterday,  last  night,  but  did  not 
believe  it,  inasmuch  as  I  knew  not  who  the 
writer  was.  But  this  morning  it  was  confirm¬ 
ed  by  a  friend,  who  told  me  almost  all  that 
was  contained  in  the  letter.  Now  I  have  told 
you  all.  Ask  your  own  heart  if  you  have 
been  faithful  to  me.  I  blame  you  not  for  pre¬ 
ferring  a  woman  of  beauty,  rank  and  wealth 
to  a  poor,  miserable  wretch,  who  had  nothing 
to  offer  you  save  a  devoted  heart.  No!  not 
one  reproach!  But  this  I  must  say:  Think 
how  I  have  acted  towards  all  gentlemen. 
Loving  you  as  I  do,  I  could  not  do  otherwise. 
While  you  were  breathing  to  her  “  protesta¬ 
tions  of  love,”  (this  letter  says)  I  was  here 
weeping,  suffering  agony.  While  there  you 
were,  I  was  begging  for  one  word  to  save  me, 
and  yet  you  had  no  time  to  write.  You  could 
not  shut  up  your  office  one  day  to  see  me, 
but  to  see  her  you  could  do  it  for  “  five  days 
in  succession.”  Bnt  enough!  enough!  I  will 
not  utter  one  reproach.  But  could  you  read 
the  letter,  and  hear  the  words  I  this  day 
heard,  you  would  not  blame  me.  From  whom 
the  letter  came  I  know  not — it  commences  by 
saying  he,  as  a  friend  of  mine,  considers  it  his 
duty  to  tell  me  how  I  have  been  deceived  in 
you.  He  then  relates  to  me  all  your  atten¬ 
tions  to  Miss - ,  and  your  proposal,  and 


freely  die  to  make  him  happy.  My  God,  I 
can  scarce  realize  what  love  is  mine. 


much  more  which  I  cannot  now  repeat;  for, 
alas!  I  have  no  heart  to  write.  Miserable  as 
I  am,  I  shall  have  the  sweet  consciousness  of 
knowing  you  are  happy.  Oh !  that  she  may 
love  you  as  1  love  you.  Then  you  must  be 
happy.  I  pray  God  you  may  both  be  per¬ 
fectly  happy.  My  last  and  only  wish  is  that 
you  will  sometimes  think  of  her  who  gave  up 
all  the  world  for  you.  I  can  write  no  more. 
You  can  well  imagine  the  sufferings  of  this 
heart.  As  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  see 
you  once  more,  may  I  not  ask  you  to  see  me 
on  Tuesday  at  12  o’clock?  What  that  awful 
letter  told  me,  and  what  I  heard  to-day,  has 
driven  my  senses  from  me.  But,  oh  God,  I 
do  not  complain.  It  makes  him  happy,  and 
life — yes,  this  life,  shall  be  sacrificed  freely 
for  him.  Oh,  that  you  might  have  known 
how  I  loved  you!  Then  you  could  not  have 
given  me  up  for  another.  My  God,  what 
misery !  but  no !  he  is  happy — I  won’t  com¬ 
plain.  May  God  make  them  both  happy, 
even  though  the  thought  kills  me.  I  will 


No.  9. 

[The  following  is  without  date,  but  is  en¬ 
dorsed  in  pencil  mark,  “  Rec’d  April  25th.] 
Friday  Morning. 

Dearest  one,  I  can  never,  never  thank  you 
enough  for  your  last  kind,  sweet  letter.  Oh ! 
it  is  the  dearest,  most  precious  letter  that  you 
ever  wrote  me.  I  do  love  you  so  much  for 
sending  me  those  dear  words.  I  clasp  them 
to  my  bosom — I  bless  you  again  and  again, 
for  making  me  so  happy.  Oh  !  my  beloved 
one,  I  do  think  you  are  the  dearest,  kindest, 
sweetest  being  on  the  earth,  and  I  do  love 
you  more  than  all  the  world.  Why  tell  you 
this,  dear  one  ?  for  you  will  not  believe  me. 
Y  ou  say,  I  ha  ve  loved  so  often ,  and  you  always 
seem  to  doubt  the  truth  of  this  heart’s  devo¬ 
tion.  Loved  ene,  promise  me  just  to  listen 
to  a  few  wos4a  I  am  going  to  say  to  you. 
Dearest,  I  do  believe  there  never  was  a  wo¬ 
man  had  such  feelings  as  1  have  for  you.  I 
believe  my  love  for  you  is  more  powerful, 
more  absorbing,  than  ever  existed  in  a  hu- 
mau  breast.  Dearest ,  I  love  you  better  than 
my  own  soul;  I  love  you  better  than  Heeven  : 
Good  God .'  I  love  you  till  my  heart  has  but 
one  feeling — that  of  glorious,  beautiful  pas¬ 
sionate  love.  I  speak  truly,  my  cherished  one, 
when  I  now  swear  to  you,  that  I  have  never 
had  a  feeling  for  a  human  being  like  that  I 
have  for  you.  Be  it  love,  idolatry,  adoration, 
of  one  thing  I  am  sure,  that  I  never  felt  for 
another  what  I  do  for  you.  7  may  have  be¬ 
lieved  7  loved  others  ;  but,  good  God  !  what 
were  those  emotions  compared  to  what  I  now 
feel.  Then  it  was  a  calm,  quiet,  sober  feel¬ 
ing,  indifferent  I  may  say — now  'tis  raging 
like  a  storm  in  my  heart — such  burning,  pas -  ' 
sionate,  glowing  enthusiasm — such  strength, 
that  7  am  overpowered  ;  it  flashes  like  an 
electric  shock  through  my  soul.  Oh  !  God ! 
it  deranges  me.  If  this  is  not  love,  what,  in 
the  name  of  heaven,  is  it  ?  Now,  how  can 
I  believe,  for  one  moment,  that  I  ever  loved 
before  ?  for  I  never  in  my  whole  life  had  such 
feelings  as  7  now  have.  What  passion  it 
was  7  felt  before,  I  know  not ;  but  that  /feel 
now,  is  Love — Yes !  love  iu  its  purity,  its 
strength,  in  its  deep,  unutterable  adoration. 
Oh  !  dearest  ,  if  you  could  but  read  this  heart, 
you  would  know  I  never  loved  before.  Dearj 
one,  do  you  still  doubt  me  ?  Oh  !  no !  no  ! 
you  cannot ;  only  think  of  all  1  have  done  tojl 
show  you  my  affection  ;  think  of  evert  ac-fl 
tion,  and,  dearest,  how  can  you  doubt  me  f 
Oh  !  mine  own,  my  only  one  !  I  now,  in  the 
presence  of  my  God,  swear  to  you  I  have 
never  loved  a  creature  on  earth  as  7  do  you. 
Never,  never,  dearest,  has  my  heart  been 
given  to  another,  and  7  now  will  make  a 
holy,  sacred  promise,  and  you  must  never,  for 
one  instant,  doubt  the  faith,  the  perfect  love, 
which  prompts  this  vow  :  7  swear  to  you, 
loved  one,  from  this  hour  7  am  wholly,  en- 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AST  OTHERS. 


30 


tirely  yours — not  even  one  thought  shall  be 
given  to  another  ;  every  atom,  every  mite  of 
love  glowing  in  this  bosom  is  yours,  and  only 
yours.  My  life,  from  this  day,  shall  be  ex¬ 
clusively  devoted  to  you — the  object  of  every 
thing,  action,  word  shall  be  to  make  me 
more  and  more  worthy  of  thee.  I  shall  act  in 
all  things  as  /  know  you  would  wish  me  to 
act  in  all  things  were  we  united  in  the  sight 
of  man  ;  for  I  can  never  forget  that  I  am 
your  wife,  save  in  the  empty  ceremony— for 
our  affection  unites  us  close,  oh  !  how 
close.  Never  shall  living  man  touch  these  lips 
which  /  have  consecrated  to  you  ;  they  are 
sacredly  yours.  You  have  imprinted  on  them 
the  holy,  true  kiss  of  affection,  and  never, 
never  shall  they  be  polluted  by  the  touch  of 
other  than  thine  own  precious  lips.  This 
form  has  been  encircled  by  thy  fond  arm,  and 
never  shall  it  feel  the  embrace  of  anotner. 
This  hand  has  been  clasped  in  thine  own  dear 
one,  and  never  shall  it  ever  be  touched  by 
others.  Yes  1  dearest,  I  swear  to  you  mine 
heart  is  as  true,  as  pure  to  you  as  an  angel’s  ; 
and  my  whole  person  too,  is  now  sacredly 
yours !  I  now  call  God  to  witness  this  vow, 
which  I  take  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  oh! 
may  he  grant  that  when  death  takes  me  from 
you,  beloved  one,  I  may  be  as  I  now  am, 
your  own,  yes,  your  pure,  spotless,  innocent 
Virginia. 

Good-bye,  love,  till  to-morrow,  when  I 
will  talk  with  you  again.  I  will  seal  all  I 
have  promised  you  with  a  dear  kiss.  Shall 
it  not  be  two  ?  Y'es  !  I  say.  How  strange 
it  is,  I  never  loved  to  kiss  any  one,  save  you, 
precious  darling. 

Sat  deday  Morning. 

I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  I  feel  sad  this 
morning.  I  have  been  thinking  all  night  of 
the  bitter  word  farewell,  which  I  must  soon 
breathe  to  you.  Oh  !  sweetest,  what  will  be¬ 
come  of  me  in  that  sad  hour  !  I  pray  God 
to  support  me  then,  for  without  his  support 
I  must  die.  Oh  !  dear  love,  it  makes  me  so 
miserable,  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  Oh  ! 
that  /  could  remain  here,  dearly  loved  one. 
You  do  not  know  how  /  suffer.  Only  ima¬ 
gine,  darling,  that  I  have  to  separate  from 
one  much  dearer  to  me  than  mine  own  life. 
Oh  !  is  not  this  separation  worse  than  death, 
and  I  shall  not  see  that  dear  face  for  so  long, 
perhaps  never  again.  Dearest  I  know  not 
why  it  is,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  should  never  re¬ 
turn  home — never  meet  thee  again.  Oh  ! 
God,  can  this  fate  be  mine.  Oh  !  have 
mercy  on  me,  and  spare  me  at  least  this 
agony.  Would  that  I  could  see  you  each 
day  till  the  sad  moment  of  our  adieu.  This 
would  be  a  relief,  but  it  cannot  be.  Oh  ! 
dearest,  what,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  have  I 
done  to  deserve  so  bitter  a  destiny  as  mine  ? 
— loving  one  to  perfect  idolatry,  and  yet  not 
permitted  to  be  always  near  him.  Oh  !  dear, 
dearest  one,  I  cannot  write  this  morning,  I 
feel  so  sad,  so  dispirited.  You  know  not  my 
feelings,  but  would  to  God  you  might  know 


them.  Soon,  dearest  of  my  soul,  we  meet ; 
then  one  glance  from  those  dear  eyes  will 
make  me  feel  so  happy.  Yes,  I  shall  be 
happy  with  you,  but,  alas  !  when  away  from 
you,  how  utterly  miserable  !  Dear  one,  fare¬ 
well  ;  one  sweet  kiss  your  Virginia  gives 
you — remember  they  are  given  to  none  save 
her  own  devoted  love. 

No.  10. 

[Was  a  letter  written  from  the  Astor 
House  in  New  York,  in  which  Mrs.  Myers 
hints  at  a  subject,  in  connection  with  a  con¬ 
sultation  with  Dr.  Gray,  of  so  dubious  and 
delicate  a  nature,  as  to  make  it  unfit  for  pub¬ 
lication.  It  was  written  in  April  or  May.  ] 

No.  11. 

[Date  unknown.] 

Wednesday. 

Dear  darling,  how  awfully,  bitterly  disap¬ 
pointed  I  am  again  to-day.  Oh,  dearest,  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  die  this  day.  My  God  !  I 
am  dying  to  see  you.  Dear,  dearest  one, 
won’t  you  write  me  this  morning.  Yes, 
sweet  one,  I  know  you  will.  Every  word 
will  comfort  me  so  sweetly.  Darling  you 
made  me  happy,  last  evening,  by  telling  me 
you  still  loved  me.  Oh !  could  you  know 
the  joy  those  dear  words  give  me,  you  would 
not  blame  me  for  so  often  saying,  “  Dearest, 
do  you  love  me  ?”  As  I  have  told  you  be¬ 
fore,  ’tis  not  that  I  doubt  you,  beloved,  that  I 
ask  the  question.  ’Tis  only  the  delight  of 
hearing  you  say,  “Yes,  I  do  love  you.” 
After  I  left  you,  yesterday,  dear  one;  A  re¬ 
peated  to  myself  those  magic  words  of  [thine, 
and  oh  !  what  feelings  of  bliss  did  they  not 
create  in  this  bosom !  Dear,  dearesf  angel, 
so  long  as  you  love  me  I  am  perfectly  happy. 
Think  of  this,  mine  angel,  and  never,  never 
take  from  me  this  precious  treasure.  Oh 
God !  mine  own  worshipped  one,  how  I  do 
love  you.  In  that  hateful  letter,  he  says  “  what 
will  you  give  him  next  ? — your  very  soul  ?” 
Yes,  loved  one,  my  very  soul  is  yours, — all, 
all  is  yours.  I  love  you  to  perfection,  idola¬ 
try,  utter  adoration.  Yes,  I  love  you  to  dis¬ 
traction  itself. 

Dear,  dearest  darling,  I  entreat  you  never, 
never  spurn  a  heart  so  devoted  as  mine. 
Oh  !  mine  angel,  no  one  can  love  you  as 
your  poor  Virginia.  She  loves  you,  loves 
you,  loves  you.  How  faint  these  words  to  ex¬ 
press  the  utter  devotion  of  this  heart.  Dear, 
dearest  one,  shall  I  not  soon  have  a  dear, 
kind  note  ?  Oh  ?  yes,  yes.  Tell  me,  dear 
darling,  you  are  faithfully  mine,  and  then  you 
have  done  what  Hea  ven  cannot  do  for  me — 
you  make  me  happy.  Your  sweet,  precious 
note  has  been  pressed  to  these  fond  lips.  Oh, 
my  God,  beloved,  why  say  you  are  miserable 
when  I  love  you  better  than  my  own  soul. 
Doubt  you  dearest  ? — No  !  My  actions  prove 
to  you  I  do  not.  Think,  my  dear  angel,  of 
all  I  feel  for  you  and  then  you  know  I  do 
not  doubt  you.  I  swear  to  you  I  do  not  doubt 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


40 

you,  Kiss  me,  mine  own  lore,  and  tell  me 
you  know  I  never  can  doubt  you.  Oh  1  dear¬ 
est,  yon  are  so  kind  to  me,  my  heart  is  full 
of  gratitude  to  thee,  and  oh  God  !  how  over¬ 
flowing  with  love.  To-morrow,  dearest,  you 
shall  see  I  doubt  you  not.  As  I  am  so  anx¬ 
ious  to  see  you,  I  am  coming  at  half  pas:  1 1 
o’clock.  May  I,  love? — Please  say  yes,  for 
I  am  dying  to  see  you,  sweet  one.  Oh, 
dear,  dearest,  if  you  could  read  this  heart, 
how  you  would  love  your  Virginia — one  so 
worthy  of  you — worthy  only  in  one  respect 
— that  of  deepest  devotion. 

I  may  ride  this  evening,  and  now.  darling, 
one  request  ;  if  you  love  me,  grant  it.  Just 
let  me  have  one  kind  look,  for,  believe  me, 
that  look  will  be  heaven  to  me  ;  it  will  ena¬ 
ble  me  to  support  the  sad  hours  till  we  meet. 
Dearest,  you  do  not  know  what  I  have  suf¬ 
fered  lately.  I  am  telling  you,  literally,  the 
truth  \vhen_I  say  for  the  last  three  nights  I 
have  not  slept  two  hours,  and  since  Monday 
morning  I  have  not  tasted  a  morsel  of  food. 
But,  dearest,  now  I  trust  these  terrible,  aw¬ 
ful  sufferings,  are  over,  for  now  I  know  you 
still  love  me  ;  and  now  I  am  happy,  and, 
dearest,  won’t  you  be  happy  too  ?  for, 
loved  one,  when  you  are  miserable,  I  am  so 
too.  Therefore,  sweet  darling,  kiss  me,  and 
say,  you  will  be  happy.  To-morrow  when 
we  meet,  won’t  you  meet  me  with  a  smile 
and  then,  then  I  shall  be  so  happy. 

I  shall  come  to-morrow  if  it  rains  torrents. 
I  cannot  be  disappointed  again  of  my  own 
dear  kiss. 

Thursday. 

Separated  from  you,  my  own  dearest  love, 
my  only  happiness,  is  to  think  of  you,  every 
moment,  and  write  all  these  dear  thoughts. 
Darling,  I  do  feel  sad,  sad,  to-day ;  for  the  last 
hour,  I  have  been  all  alone  weeping — yes  ! 
weeping  over  a  fate  as  dark,  as  gloomy  as 
mine — oh  !  dear  one,  you  do  not  know  all,  I 
have  to  make  me  wretched,  dearest,  only  see 
how  I  am  situated  in  this  world — bound  for¬ 
ever,  to  a  man  who  does  not  hesitate  to  tell  me, 
he  cares  nothing  for  me,  treated  alas !  my  God 
only  knows  how  cruelly.  The  affection  of  my 
father,  mother,  all  my  family  alienated  from 
me — living  in  this  unhappiness,  nay  wretched¬ 
ness,  and  yet  not  one  hope  in  the  future — I 
can  look  tor  ho  relief,  save  that  of  death — each 
hour  liable  to  be  turned  from  this  my  only  hope 
and  cast  on  the  world  a  perfect  outcast — oh 
dearest  was  ever  woman  so  lost,  so  wretched. 
Ah  !  beloved  could  you  see  me,  in  these  mo¬ 
ments  when  I  suffer  so  deeply,  ah  !  how  you 
would  pity  me.  Dear,  dear  love,  my  destiny 
is  a  dark  and  drear  one,  yet  in  thee,  my  own 
one,  I  have  such  a  haven,  how  can  I  complain. 
'Tis  in  these  moments  of  sorrow,  that  1  long 
for  thee  to  lay  my  head  on  thy  bosom,  and  let 
thee  breath  away,  the  cloud  from  my  soul. 
Dearest,  is  it  not  strange,  that  thy  voice,  thy 
very  presence,  can  tranquilize  my  mind,  when 
’tis  almost  breaking,  and  how  heavenly  ’tis  to 
feel  thy  strengthening  and  protecting  spirit 


over  ni6.  Oh,  dear,  dear  love,  what  power 
you  have  over  this  poor  heart  of  mine— I  am 
yours  soenti  rely,  you  can  make  me  just  what 
you  will. 

“I  would  not  quit  one  thought  of  thee, 

Nor  bid  my  dreams  ot  joy  take  wing ; 

I  would  not  from  thy  spell  be  free, 

For  all  the  treasures  earth  can  bring.” 

Oh  !  mine  own,  own  one,  do  I  not  love  thee, 
deeply,  purely, — yes,  dearest,  mine  own  dear¬ 
est,  always  love  thee.  Others  may  give  you 
other  inducements  and  can  offer  you  far  richer 
attractions,  for  darling  I  am  a  poor,  desolate, 
forsaken,  creature  and  all  I  can  give  you  sweet 
one,  is  a  pure,  true  heart.  A  heart  rich  in  all 
the  treasures  of  affection,  a  heart  overflowing 
with  love,  idolatry  for  thee  and  only  thee,  mine 
angel,  will  you  reject  this  ?  Oh  No  1  Love, 
dear  love,  tell  me  again  and  again.  No.'  no! 
oh  !  dearest  oh !  how  beautiful  is  the  affection 
existing  between  us — oh  !  how  heavenly  to 
love,  as  we  love,  so  purely,  so  fondly — how 
divine  is  this  love  of  ours.  I  clasp  it  to  my 
own,  as  my  all,  and  God  grant  I  may  always 
have  it  in  this  close  embrace. 

Dear  darling,  precious  one,  on  Saturday  at 
12  o’clock  1  am  in  paradise  once — 'Till  I  meet 
you  there  beloved  idol,  farewell. 

Thursday  Evening. 

Dearest,  only  one  word  to  say,  I  am  going 
to  ride  on  horseback  to-morrow  evening,  now 
about  sunset,  remember  to  look  for  thy 

VIRGINIA. 

Directed  to  Mr.  Hoyt,  Exchange  Hotel. 

No.  12. 

[The  following  without  date  is  supposed  to 
have  been  written,  about  the  first  of  June.] 

2  o’clock. 

Language  cannot  express  to  you,  mine  own 
dear  love,  the  feelings  of  this  distracted  bosom 
at  this  moment.  I  have  just  returned  home, 
disappointed  at  not  seeing  you.  I  had  pro¬ 
mised  - to  go  with  her  this  morning  to 

make  some  calls,  but  after  receiving  the  in¬ 
telligence  of  your  illness,  I  felt  too  miserable 
to  be  with  a  single  soul.  Nothing  induced 
me  to  leave  the  house,  but  the  sweet  hope  of 
being  with  you,  even  were  it  but  for  a  mo¬ 
ment.  With  this  hope,  I  went  to  the  Ex¬ 
change.  Good  God!  what  were  my  feelings, 
as  I  entered  the  parlour  and  found  you  not 
there.  In  that  short  time  was  felt  the  misery 
of  years.  Your  dear  note  was  there  handed 
me,  and  oh  !  loved  one,  I  felt  as  if  my  heart 
would  break,  when  I  read  those  words  telling 
me  of  the  pain,  the  agony  you  were  suffering, 
and  that  you  were  not  able  to  see  me.  My 
God  !  “did  ever  mortal  ”  feel  as  I  did  then. 
I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  throbbings  of 
this  poor  heart  ;  I  wras  alone,  and  it  was  most 
fortunate,  for  the  tears  rushed  to  my  eyes, 
and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  no  strength  to  move. 
It  was  impossible,  dearest,  for  me  to  remain 
out;  I  was  suffering  too  much  to  control  my 
feelings ;  I  returned  home,  dear  love,  and  here 
in  the  quiet  of  my  own  room.  I  am  sending 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS, 


you  these  words,  which  will  not,  cannot  con¬ 
vey  to  you  the  anguish  of  this  poor  lacerated 
bosom.  Oh!  dearest,  I  feel  as  if  I  should  go 
mad  when  I  reflect,  that  perhaps  I  may  not 
see  you  ere  I  leave — yes,  dearest,  I  feel  it  is 
forever  5  something  tells  me  we  are  to  part 
forever.  Good  God!  can  it  be  so?  or  is  it  a 
foolish  presentiment?  Dearest  one,  did  I 
know  that  we  should  never  meet  again,  I 
would  not  hesitate  one  instant — no !  I  would 
die  by  mine  own  hand  ;  for  oh!  love,  you 
know  life  has  nought  for  me  without  thy 
precious  self.  Dearest  idol,  I  do  pray  Heaven 
we  may  not  be  severed  eternally ;  no,  no !  the 
jvery  reflection  pierces  my  soul,  wrings  my 
heart  with  anguish,  and  yet  I  cannot  drive 
this  fear  from  me ;  it  seems  as  if  ’twas  a 
1  warning;  it  haunts  me  by  day,  and  every 
night  I  dream  the  fearful  dream  that  once 
separated,  we  never  meet  again.  Oh  !  love, 
love,  that  I  could  chase  this  frightful  thought 
away,  for  it  has  preyed  on  my  mind  so  much, 
that  it  has  rendered  me  perfectly  wretched. 
Oh!  dear,  loved  one,  1  cannot  leave  without 
impressing  on  those  precious  lips  the  seal  of 
undying,  eternal  love.  Oh!  dearest,  to  leave 
without  one  word  from  thee,  is  imposible — I 
cannot, — and  yet  I  have  no  resource  left  me. 
The  command  is  given  and  go  I  must.  Dear 
darling,  oh!  I  pray  God  you  are  now  better; 
yes,  dearest,  since  I  read  your  note  this  morn¬ 
ing,  I  have  often  knelt  and  prayed  Heaven 
for  one  so  dear  to  me,  one  I  love  better  than 
life  itself.  Sweet  one,  I  am  interrupted  by 
Mr.  M.’s  return  ;  but  to-night  shall  write 
again. 

Thursday  night  1-2  past  1  o’clock. 

At  this  late  hour,  mine  own  dearest,  behold 
me  writing  you.  Every  soul,  save  myself,  is 
asleep;  no  rest  for  me:  I  am  far  too  misera¬ 
ble  to  sleep.  Oh !  dear,  dearest  one,  does 
aot  all  this  tell  you  of  the  devotion,  the  ado¬ 
ration  of  this  poor  heart  of  mine.  My  God! 
sever,  never  was  there  such  love  before.  I 
retired,  dear  one,  but  finding  I  could  not  sleep 
stole  out  of  bed,  and  now,  if  you  could  but 
see  me,  darling,  sitting  here,  all  alone  in  the 
leep  silence  of  night,  tracing  these  words,  oh! 
vould  you,  could  you  ever  doubt  the  truth  of 
ny  perfect  affection.  Oh !  dearest  one,  what 
nisery  to  think  you  are  now  ill,  suffering,  and 
I,  your  own  dear  one,  away  from  you.  Oh  ! 
jod,  would  that  I  could  be  beside  you  this 
noment,  what  joy,  what  happiness  ;  it  crazes 
ne  to  think  of  it.  Oh  !  that  thy  dear  head 
:  vas  now  resting  on  this  bosom ;  thy  precious 
land  clasped  in  mine,  and  oh !  God,  that  I 
night  now  press  those  sweet  lips  to  mine. 
I  Dear '  love,  you  know  not  how  I  long  to  be 
i  lear  you,  now  that  you  are  suffering  ;  now, 
vere  I  permitted,  I  might  prove  to  you  my 
render,  entire  love.  Oh  !  how  I  would  love 
o  nurse  you ;  how  I  would  delight  to  minis- 
er  to  every  want,  and  I  should  be  so  jealous 
if  the  dear  pleasure,  that  not  one  thing  shotild 
rou  receive  from  another.  These  hands 
jhould  give  you  all ;  yes,  all  you  wish.  Oh! 


41 

how  sweet  'twould  be  to  sit  and  watch  every 
change  in  thy  dear  face,  and  anticipate  and 
read  there  every  wish  ere  it  was  expressed. 
Oh!  that  I  could  now  fly  to  you,  press  you  to 
my  heart,  encircle  you  in  the  arms  of  tender¬ 
ness  and  love;  to  have  thy  dear  head  rest¬ 
ing  on  this  arm,  and  soothe  you  to  sleep 
with  the  words  of  sweet  love,  and  then,  while 
you  slept,  to  bend  over  you,  watch  over 
you,  pray  for  you,  to  kiss ‘those  dear  lips, 
while  you  would  be  so  unconscious  of  all,  to 
take  thy  dear  hand  and  hold  it  close  hi  mine, 
to  entwine  these  arms  around  thy  dear  neck, 
and  feel  that  I  then  held  in  my  embrace  all 
that  I  loved,  all  I  adored ;  oh !  this  would  be 
bliss,  yes,  bliss  unspeakable ;  the  very  idea  of 
such  happiness  thrills  the  inmost  fibres  of  my 
soul.  But  no,  it  cannot  be.  Oh !  agouizing 
reflection;  you,  mine  own  adored,  idolized, 
being  now  on  a  bed  of  sickness  and  pain,  and 
I  cannot  be  beside  you;  I,  who  love  you  to 
such  desperation;  I,  who  now  would  rush 
through  even  the  pains  of  Death  to  ba  near 
you,  and  yet  I  cannot.  Oh!  believe  me;  am 
I  not  right,  when  I  say  there  neven  has  existed 
in  all  this  world,  so  wretched  a  poor  creature 
as  myself. — What  have  I  on  this  earth  to 
make  me  happy, — nothing  save  thy  dear  love 
— nothing  save  thy  own  precious  self,  and 
loving  you  till  every  feeling  of  this  bosom  is 
absorbed  in  the  one  burning  passion.  With 
all  this,  we  are  separated,  divided,  perhaps 
eternally;  but  oh!  God,  it  cannot  be;  I  will 
not  believe  that  two  beings  so  indissolubly- 
united  by  the  purest  affection,  should  be 
severed  for  ever.  Dear  love,  when  I  write, 
or  even  think  on  this  subject,  it  almost  kills 
me,  and  this  night  I  am  almost  too  miserable 
for  existence.  I  feel  this  instant  1  could 
welcome  death,  so  perfectly  wretched  am  I. 
I  fear  I  shall  be  ill  to-morrow,  for  I  cannot 
close  my  eyes  in  sleep ;  all  I  can  pray  it,  that 
God  will  have  mercy  on  my  soul,  for  ’tis  a 
bleeding,  tom  one.  Good-night,  love,  would 
that  I  were  now  watching  by  thy  dear  side; 
then  I  should  be  so  happy  that  I  would  fever 
wish  to  sleep,  for  to  sit  and  nurse  you,  mine 
own  dearest,  would  be  sweeter  than  all  the 
rest  and  sleep  I  could  have. 

Friday,  11  o’clock. 

,  Again  this  morning,  behold  me  writing 
you.  Dear  one,  I  am  so  miserable  I  can  do 
nothing  but  write.  Oh  loved  one,  that  I 
could  know  how-  you  are  now.  I  pray  from 
my  soul  that  you  are  better — well.  Oh 
dearest  one,  would  that  I  could  be  ill  instead 
of  you!  Would  that  I  might  bear  every 
pain — take  from  you  every  suffering.  Oh 
how  cheerfully  would  I  do  it,  for  it  would  be 
such  happiness  to  think  I  was  suffering  in¬ 
stead  of  you.  Dear  love,  I  have  never  had 
these  feelings  before.  My  God!  do  they  not 
speak  to  you  of  worship — idolatry?  I  am  in 
a  perfect  state  of  excitement,  till  I  receive 
your  lettei’.  Nothing  can  picture  to  you  my 
anxiety.  I  am  almost  beside  myself.  Oh 
that  dear  letter  !=>may  it  tell  me  yen  are 


42 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AMD  OTHERS. 


better,  and  thus  send  one  feeling  of  happiness  ] 
to  a  broken  heart.  Now  dearest  one,  I  have 
another,  and  the  strongest  proof  to  give  you 
of  my  love.  Yesterday,  when  I  read  your  , 
last  note,  saying  you  would  not  be  able  to 
come  here  on  Saturday,  I  resolved,  by  some  ! 
means,  to  defer  my  departure  for  a  few  days, 
hoping  by  that  delay  I  should  be  able  to  have 
one  dear  meeting  in  this  room,  consecrated 
by  so  many  happy  associations  with  thy  dear 
self,  mine  own  love.  I  cannot  bid  you  adieu 
anywhere  save  here,  for  I  have  so  much  to  I 
say  to  you,  that  I  long  for  a  few  hours  of  | 
perfect  seclusion  and  privacy.  This  morning  ! 

I  entreated  Mr.  M - only  to  wait  till  W ed-  ! 

nesday,  for  I  really  felt  too  sick  to  leave  home  | 
on  Monday.  At  first  he  positively  refused,  , 
saying  I  should  go  on  that  day.  Dear  love,  ! 
it  was  a  great  struggle  to  my  own  pride,  to 
beg  and  entreat  a  man  thus,  who  treats  me 
thus  cruelly.  But  oh  dearest!  what  would 
I  not  do  to  see  you  once  more.  He  at  length 
told  me  there  was  but  one  condition  on  which 
he  would  remain.  He  would  stay  until 
Wednesday,  if  I  promised  what  he  asked. 
Good  God!  When  he  named  the  condition, 
m}r  blood  was  chilled  in  my  veins — for  a  mo¬ 
ment  I  could  not  speak.  Oh  dearest !  it  is 
a  most  frightful,  awful  condition  to  me,  and 
to  yield,  is  like  yielding  up  all  my  woman’s 
pride — all  my  delicacy.  You  can  imagine 
the  promise,  dearest.  1  cannot  write  it.  Dear 
love  Though  I  shuddered  at  such  a  propo¬ 
sal,  I  promised  it,  even  though  to  perform  it 
wifi  be  like  death — for,  dearest,  I  knew  if  I 
left  Monday,  I  might  not  see  you  but  once — 
perhaps  not  at  all.  If  I  remained,  I  would 
see  you.  This  and  this  only  decided  me — for 
oh,  mine  own  one !  I  would  give  up  all  on 
earth  to  see  you.  Loved  one,  if  I  could  tell 
you  the  condition,  then  you  would  indeed 
prize  the  love  which  prompted  me  to  yield 
feelings  which  you  know  are  yours,  and  yours  i 
only.  Now,  dearest  one,  shall  I  not  see  you  ' 
many  times  ere  1  leave?  and  will  we  not  ] 
have  one  parting  here?  Oh,  this  will  re-  ^ 

compense  me  for  all  I  have  done;  and  God 
knows  how  mnch  it  is.  Dear  one,  you  say, 
will  not  1  come  to  you  to-morrow?  Yes, 
sweet  one,  that  I  will,  and  I  would  walk  so 
long  as  I  had  strength  to  do  so,  just  for  one 
kind  word  from  those  dear  lips,  I  would  not 
be  willing  for  you  to  come  to  me  to-morrow 
— for,  dear  one,  I  would  not  have  you  suffer 
any  fatigue — any  exertion.  No,  not  for 
worlds;  and  dear  one,  I  fear  you  thought 
me  unkind  yesterday,  in  asking  you  to  come 
to  the  parlor.  I  knew  it  was  wrong;  but, 
dearest  one,  forgive  me — 1  knew  not  what 
I  asked.  I  was  perfectly  out  of  my  senses  | 
when  I  wrote  you — for  love,  misery,  all,  have 
nearly  taken  my  reason  from  me.  Dearest 
one,  I  read  your  note — it  will  either  send 
misery  or  gladness  to  the  heart  of  your  de¬ 
voted  - .  Your  note  has  indeed  sent 

misery  to  my  heart.  God  only  knows  now 
what  will  become  of  me.  1  cannot  ■write, 


dearest.  All  I  can  say,  is  to  beg,  to  entreat 
you  to  see  me  to-morrow.  I  ask  it  in  the 
name  of  mercy — in  the  name  of  love.  I  shall 
be  there  at  precisely  half  past  12  o’clock; 
and  oh!  God  grant  that  we  may  meet.  Not 
strength  for  one  word  more — miserable  past 
experience. 


No.  13. 

[This  letter  it  will  be  perceived,  was  written 
by  Mrs.  Myers  whilst  she  was  staying  at  her 
father's  in  Nelson.  It  followed  immediately 
the  one  from  the  same  place,  introduced  in 
the  body  of  the  testimony.] 

Alta  Vista,  June  16. 

I  wrote  you,  mine  own  dearest  one,  by  the 
last  mail,  and  in  that  letter,  I  begged  you  to 
send  me  a  long  one  in  return.  Since  that  I 
have  thought  over  the  matter  deliberately, 
and  fearing  there  may  be  risk  in  receiving 
your  dear  letter,  I  now  write  you,  my  darling, 
to  say  you  had  best  not  write  at  all.  You, 
dearest  one,  who  knows  how  devotedly  I  love 
you,  know  full  well  what  a  trial  this  has  been 
to  me,  for  I  had  anticipated,  with  such  happi¬ 
ness,  the  arrival  of  your  precious  letter,  and 
now  to  be  disappointed.  Ah!  mine  own  one 
believe  me,  it  has  been  a  great  struggle;  but 
I  only  hope  it  will  result  for  our  future  plea¬ 
sure.  There  would  be  such  danger,  dearest, 
for  it  might  fall  in  other  hands,  and  did  I  re¬ 
ceive  it  I  would  be  questioned  closely  as  to 
whom  it  came  from ;  there  are  a  thousand 
risks  to  run,  which  I  didn’t  think  of  for  the 
moment;  but  since  I  have  reflected  and  con¬ 
versed  with - on  the  subject,  I  have  come 

to  the  conclusion  you  must  not  write  me 
here. 

When  we  meet,  darling,  I  will  explain 
some  things  to  you,  which  I  cannot  well  put 
on  paper,  and  then  you  will  sec  the  necessity 
of  my  acting  in  this  manner,  for,  dearest  love, 
nothing  but  necessity  should  debar  me  from 
the  beloved  pleasure  of  reading  your  dear 
letter.  Oh!  sweet  one,  your  letter  would 
have  made  me  so  happy,  and  cheered  me  so 
much  in  this  absence.  Alas!  how  hard  it  is 
to  say  you  must  not  write,  for  now,  separated 
from  you,  I  am  so  utterly  wretched,  misera¬ 
ble,  forever  fearing  you  do  not  love  me.  Oh! 
that  I  could  receive  one  assurance  ot  affection 
from  you.  What  joy  would  it  not  bring  to 
my  poor  heart.  But,  mine  angel,  I  will 
always  believe  you  love  me.  When  I  for  an 
instant  think  you  may  change,  my  very 
bosom  is  rent  with  agony.  Oh !  could  you 
see  me  in  those  moments  of  fear  and  doubt, 
you,  dear  one,  would  pity  me,  for  words  can¬ 
not  tell  how  I  suffer.  To  know  all  the  agony 
I  then  endure,  you  must  see  the  hitter  tears 
coursing  my  cheek,  feel  the  convulsive  throb- 
bings  of  my  heart.  1  know  not  why  it  is, 
dearest,  but  since  I  parted  from  you,  I  have 
been  tormented  by  these  fears.  They  have 
kept  me  from  sleep,  they  have  actually  made 
me  too  wretched  for  life,  and  I  have  never 
suffered  so  much  as  I  have  since  I  last  bade 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


43 


jrou  adieu ;  and  the  reason  is,  I  am  so  afraid, 
iear  one,  you  will  cease  to  lore  me.  My 
3od,  were  this  to  be  my  fate,  what  in  the 
lame  of  Heaven  would  become  of  me.  I 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Oh ! 
iear  love,  again  and  again,  remember  my 
ife  is  in  your  hands,  and  spare  me,  darling 
dol,  who  loves  you  to  such  perfect  adoration 
hat  the  power  of  language  cannot  express  it. 
Dh !  dear  one,  I  fear  I  shall  die  if  I  am  not 
:oon  restored  to  you.  You  caDnot  conceive 
ill  I  have  suffered  and  still  suffer.  I  am  so 
niserable  that  I  cannot  conceal  my  feelings, 
md  at  times  so  overcome  that  I  am  compelled 
o  rush  to  my  room,  and  there  in  silence  and 
ears,  pray  God  for  strength  to  support  me. 
vfy  only  hope  is  to  be  with  you  on  Tuesday, 
he  30th  of  this  month.  I  hope  to  remain  at 
he  Exchange  the  first  night  of  our  arrival, 
md  as  we  shall  not  go  to  our  house  till  the 
norning  following,  perhaps  that  night  I  may 
>e  able  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  alone, 
fou  must  remain  in  the  parlor,  and  we  may 
lave  an  opportunity — if  not,  we  may  be  so 
brtunate  as  to  have  one  in  the  morning  be- 
ore  I  go  home.  However,  ’tis  doubtful,  as 
te  may  remain  and  accompany  me — however, 
Iear  love,  I  trust,  I  hope  to  be  with  you  alone, 
or  I  shall  really  go  crazy,  if  I  do  not.  We 
must  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to  accom¬ 
plish  it.  You  must  be  at  tea,  the  evening  of 
mr  arrival,  for  I  shall  be  so  anxious,  fearing 
hese  may  have  been  intercepted,  and  you 
lot  received  them,  so  dearest  love,  I  beg  you, 
f  you  have  received  them,  wear  the  dear  ring 
if  love  on  your  right  hand,  and  by  this  man- 
ler  I  shall  know  all.  On  the  evening  of  our 

irrival  if  Mr. - should  go  to  some  other 

Hotel,  instead  of  the  Exchange,  do  dear  one, 
he  next  morning  (Wednesday)  send  your 
;ervant  to  my  house  with  a  note,  charging 
lim  to  deliver  it  to  no  one  save  myself 
-  However,  this,  I  hope,  will  not  be  necessary, 
or  I  think  we  shall  go  to  the  Exchange. 

Fearing,  my  dear  love,  we  may  have  no 
ipportunity  of  speaking  alone,  I  shall  write 
'on  a  note,  telling  you  what  day  I  am  coming 
o  the  Exchange  to  meet  you,  and  this  note 
shall  contrive  to  give  you  as  soon  as  I  see 
mu.  Now,  love,  just  one  request:  I  want 
mu  to  write  me  a  dear,  long  letter,  and  you 
oo  can  give  it  me  when  we  meet,  and  it  will 
>e  such  a  comfort  to  me,  during  the  sad  days 
hat  must  elapse  from  my  arrival  in  Rich- 
nond,  to  the  time  I  can  come  to  you  at  the 

IHxchange.  You  can,  in  some  way,  slip  it  in 
ny  hands,  so  as  to  be  unobserved  by  any  one. 
Ho,  dear  love — won’t  you  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  know 
mu  will.  Let  it  be  a  long,  long  letter.  Try  and 
vrite  a  letter  every  day,  and  remember  what 
tappiness  every  word  will  give  your  devoted 
Virginia.  Tell  me,  dearest  one,  you  love 
ne,  and  that  will  make  me  the  happiest  of 
■  :reated  beings.  Ah!  dear  love,  would  that  I 
tow  might  throw  myself  in  your  arms  and 
-ell  you  how  I  love  you.  When  we  meet  I 
tave  a  great  deal  to  tell  you.  I  have  spoken 


freely  to  my  mother  of  my  situation,  and 
have  much  to  say  to  von.  Now  dearest, 
sweetest  one,  till  our  happy  re-union,  fake- 
well.  I  love  you,  love  you,  and  you  alone. 
“  Kiss  me  sweet,"  and  press  me  to  your 
bosom,  as  I  am 

Your  pure,  spotless,  devoted 

VIRGINIA. 

If  you  should  have  written  to  me,  dearest, 
ere  vou  receive  this,  in  some  way  get  it  out 
of  the  Post  Office,  for  I  cannot  receive  a  letter 
frou  you  here.  ’Tis  impossible,  without 
running  the  greatest  risk  and  danger.  Have 
for  me  a  dear,  long,  kind  letter,  sweet  darling, 
when  we  meet,  and  oh!  how  I  will  love  you 
for  it. 

No.  14. 

[  The  following  appears  from  Mr.  Hoyt’s 
endorsement  to  have  been  received  “  Friday 
Aug.  14,  1846,”  directed  to  Mr.  Hoyt,  Ex¬ 
change  Hotel.  It  is  one  of  the  most  impor¬ 
tant  and  singular  in  the  whole  package.  It 
fully  confirms  Mosby’s  testimony  about  the 
interview  in  No.  18.] 

Tuesday,  3  o’clock. 

I  have  just  returned  home  and  would  fain 
seek  relief  from  the  agony  I  am  now  en¬ 
during  by  writing  you,  mine  own,  and  only 
one :  yet  I  cannot,  my  feelings  are  such  that  I 
have  not  strength  to  write,  I  feel  as  if  I  was 
lost  forever — almost  distracted.  All  I  can  do  is 
to  pray  Heaven  to  have  mercy  on  one  of  the 
most  wretched  creatures  living.  Would  to 
God  you  could  look  now  in  this  heart  and 
read  there  its  sorrow.  Alas  !  alas  !  how 
would  your  bosom  yearn  towards  me  so 
utterly  forsaken  by  the  whole  world  and  so 
utterly  wretched. 

Wednesday  Mokning. 

I  wrote  you  dearest,  the  above  lines  on  yes¬ 
terday.  They  speak  to  you  of  agonizing 
emotions.  Last  night,  what  miserable  hours 
of  waking  sorrow!  I  have  not  closed  my 
eyes  in  sleep,  and  this  morning,  I  am  almost 
exhausted  from  suffering — yet  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  support  life,  this  livelong  day  with¬ 
out  writing  you.  Oh!  dear,  dear,  dearest  one, 
I  cannot  picture  to  you  my  misery.  It  is  now 
overpowering,  overwhelming,  I  can  no  longer 
endure  it — it  must  kill  me.  Dearest,  what 
moments  of  suffering  were  those  passed  yes¬ 
terday!  It  chills  my  very  blood  to  think  of 
them.  Dearest  darling,  you  did  not  love  me 
yesterday.  Your  manner  was  so  changed1 
towards  me  that  I  could  not  fail  to  observe  it. 
You  were  actually  cold  towards  me.  Oh  ! 
dear,  dear  love,  why  is  this  change?  Now  I 
need  every  kindness,  every  affection  from  you 
to  enable  me  to  support  life,  and  now,  in  this 
hour  of  my  agony,  would  you  desert  me  ? 
Would  you,  too,  my  only  loved  one,  leave 
me,  forsake  me?  You,  the  only  being  who 
has  made  me  cling  to  this  wretched  existence. 
Would  you  withdraw  from  me  your  blessed 
support?  You  taken  from  me,  then,  then, 
alas!  am  I  utterly  forsaken?  Yes,  altogether 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


44 

desolate ;  for,  deafest,  are  you  not  my  all,  in 
this  wide  world?  My  family,  my  friends, 
have  each  one  proved  false  to  me,  and  would 
you  too,  mine  angel !  Oh  !  what  tenfold 
agony  in  the  very  reflection  !  But  dear 
adored  one,  even  if  you  despise  me,  I  cannot 
blame  you,  for  they  tell  you  I  am  unworthy 
of  you;  they  tell  you  I  possess  nought  to 
make  a  woman  beloved,  and,  dear  love,  it 
may  be  you  believe  them.  You  may  spurn 
me,  cast  me  from  you,  as  a  being  altogether 
worthless;  yet  I  will  not  utter  one  complaint. 
No  dearest,  I  will  never  reproach  you.  Ee- 
jected,  spurned,  jet  I  must  ever  love  you  ; 
for  to  you  I  am  indebted  for  all  the  happiness 
I  have  ever  known  in  this  life,  your  love  has 
given  me  such  joy  as  can  only  be  felt  in  Para¬ 
dise.  You  are  the  only  creature  who  has 
shown  me  kindness ;  you  alone,  as  mine  own 
dear  guardian  angel,  has  taught  me  to  bear 
my  sorrow;  and  can  I,  will  I  ever  forget  these 
acts  of  mercy  ?  No!  I  call  God  to  witness  I 
never  shall,  my  latest  breath  shall  be  spent  in 
praying  Heaven  to  bless  you.  Yes,  I  pray 
my  God  to  bless  one,  whom  I  love  far  better 
than  mine  own  life.  Dear  darling  one,  per¬ 
haps  you  no  longer  love  me,  but  oh!  God,  cast 
me  not  away  as  unworthy.  That  you  should 
think  me  unworthy  hreaks  my  very  heart. 
Dearest,  in  all  humility  I  kneeel  to  you,  and  I 
implore  you,  think  not  too  hardly  of  me. — 
Oh!  believe  not  all  they  tell  you.  Believe  not 
your  poor  distracted  Virginia  is  not  as  pure 
as  seraphs  above?  If  you  cease  to  love  me, 
for  God’s  sake  cease  not  to  respect  me.  Tell 
me,  I  entreat  you,  that  1  shall  ever  possess 
your  respect,  and  that  at  least  will  take  one 
pang  from  my  agonized  bosom.  Dear  love 
though  they  may  endeavor  to  make  you  be¬ 
lieve  that  I  am  the  vilest  woman,  oh!  I  have, 
with  all  my  faults,  one  virtue  left.  I  love  you, 
dearest  one — till  words  fail  to  speak  such 
depth,  such  strength  of  devotion.  But,  dar¬ 
ling,  how  can  you  believe  what  they  say  of 
me?  Have  I  not  confided  to  you  every  feel¬ 
ing  of  this  bosom?  Have  I  not  told  you 
every  thought?  and  oh!  dearest,  knowing  me 
as  you  do,  my  God,  how  can  you  lend  a  lis¬ 
tening  ear  to  such  words  as  they  speak  against 
me?  When  I  think  of  how  I  have  been 
wronged,  accused,  my  very  heart  feels  as  if  it 
would  break;  and,  dear  love,  is  it  not  natural 
I  should  suffer  thus?  I  am  a  human  being,  1 
have  some  of  the  feelings  of  humanity,  tho’ 
they  would  say  I  had  not.  My  heart  is  not  of 
stone.  I  must  and  I  do  feel,  oh!  God  alone 
knows  how — it  has  rent  my  very  soul.  But, 
darling,  I  care  not  what  they  and  the  whole 
world  think  of  me,  but  oh!  good  God,  that 
you  should  think  harshly  of  me!  This  fills 
the  bitter  cup  of  sorrow  to  overpouring.  But, 
dearest,  in  your  moments  of  calmness  and  re¬ 
flection,  you  cannot  believe  what  they  tell  you 
of  me.  See  with  what  confidence,  what  faith 
I  have  entrusted  to  you  my  happiness,  my  very 
life ;  and  would  you  now  deceive  me  ?  Oh ! 
my  God,  if  yon  have  ceased  to  love  me,  then 


I  cannot,  will  not  lice-,  for  hope  then,  alas! 
is  a  blank,  an  agony.  But,  darling  one,  for  the 
sake  of  mercy,  tell  me  you  still  respect  me. — 
Dear,  dear  angel,  I  blame  you  not.  Mine 
own  brother  has  told  you  I  was  unworthy  of 
you,  and  1  cannot  blame  you  for  believing  him. 
Man  has  not  power  to  see  every  thought  of 
this  bosom,  but  I  thank  God,  he  can  see  all — 
he  knows  my  sorrows,  and  as  a  heavenly  fa¬ 
ther  he  pities  me.  This  poor  heart,  broken, 
torn  though  it  be,  is  as  pure  as  Heaven  itself. 
Never  has  one  improper  thought  sullied  its 
brightness.  It  is  filled  but  with  one  feeling, 
and  that  is  love,  adoring,  idolatrous  love  for 
thee.  Oh  !  dearest,  when  I  think  they  have 
made  you  despise  me,  good  God!  whither 
shall  I  go?  I  am  alone,  unprotected,  all  de¬ 
sert  me.  He  whom  I  worshipped  as  my  idol — 
my  angel— he  forsakes  me.  Now  there  arc 
none,  none  left.  Dear  one,  you  have  made 
me  love  life — you  have  made  me  cling  to  ex¬ 
istence,  and  now  that  you  too  forsake  me — 
farewell — yes,  farewell.  I  dread  not  death,  I 
hesitate  not  to  end  this  wretched  existence  by 
my  own  hands.  God  will  have  mercy  on  my 
soul,  for  he  will  forgive  me  for  taking  a  life  1 
can  no  longer  endure.  Dear  beloved  one,  I 
have  naught  now  to  live  for,  and  1  am  so  mi¬ 
serable  that  I  have  lost  my  very  senses.  By 
my  side  I  have  a  vial  of  laudanum,  enough 
and  thrice  enough  to  cause  death.  Only  think 
how  happy  1  am  to  know' just  by  one  draught, 
I  can  still  the  tlirobbings  of  this  heart.  I  will 
doit,  for  oh!  I  can  no  longer  live.  Then, 
dearest,  farewell — yes , forever  !  In  one  hour, 
perhaps,  you  may  hear  that  she  wdio  loved  you 
so  fondly  is  now  no  more.  Pray  for  me,  dear¬ 
est — pray  God  to  have  mercy  on  my  soul. — 
But  I  must  die.  Oh!  God  give  me  strength 
to  drink  it.  Forgive  me,  dearest  ! — oh  ! 
forgive  me,  for  the  sake  of  Heaven.  I  love 
you,  love  you  till  reason  has  left  me,  My 
God !  perhaps  this  is  the  last  word  I  shall  ever 
write.  Good  God!  Iam  deranged — yes,  ac¬ 
tually  deranged!  My  pen  falls  from  my 
hand.  Oh,  God !  what  wretchedness. 

Wednesday  Evening.  ‘ 
lily  God,  beloved,  could  you  know  what 
were  my  feelings  a  few  hours  since,  you 
would  believe  what  I  have  often  told  you, 
that  1  shall  die  a  maniac.  I  can  scarcely  re¬ 
alize  that  I  am  now-  living,  for  I  was  so  near 
death.  Why,  why  was  it  that  I  feared  to  die? 
The  sweet  hope  that  you  might  still  love  me; 
for  this  love  makes  me  cling  to  life — deprived 
of  that  love,  death  has  not  one  sting.  I  have 
suffered  so  intensely  to-day,  that  I  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  take  an  opiate,  under  the  plea  of 
violent  headache.  I  have  slept  for  several 
hours,  and  this  has,  in  some  degree,  calmed 
the  excitement  of  feeling.  Last  night  1  did 
not  even  close  my  eyes,  and  this  bodily  ex¬ 
haustion  has  augmented  the  misery  of  my  | 
mind.  When  these  attacks  of  perfect  agony  ! 
come  over  me,  I  verily  believe,  for  the  time 
being,  I  have  not  my  senses,  and  I  actually 
fear  now  to  be  left  alone — I  tremble  lest,  from 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


the  desperation  of  sorrow,  I  may  in  a  mo¬ 
ment  of  rashness  put  an  end  to  my  own  ex¬ 
istence.  I  tremble  when  I  think  what  is  to 
be  my  fete  in  this  world.  Oh !  dearest,  if 
you  could  look  in  this  heart  and  see  how 
wretched,  how  perfectly  miserable  I  am,  you 
would  pity  me.  There  does  not  beat  in  the 
breast  of  mortals  a  heart  so  broken,  so  lacer¬ 
ated  as  mine.  You  know,  beloved  one,  all 
my  trials,  and  you  do  not  blame  me  for  being 
wretched;  for,  Oh  God !  I  have  not  hope 
save  the  hope  of  death.  Dearest,  I  pray  you 
forgive  me  for  having  thought,  for  a  moment, 
that  you  had  ceased  to  love  me.  On  yester¬ 
day  I  thought  you  were  very  cold  towards 
me;  but  perhaps  because  I  was  suffering  so 
much.  I  may  have  wronged  you  even  by 
thinking  so.  Forgive  me,  for  I  was  so  un¬ 
happy  that  I  longed  in  that  hour  of  sorrow 
for  every  proof  of  affection.  I  felt  that  your 
dear  words  of  love  alone  could  support  my 
sinking  heart,  and  I  knew  your  dear  voice 
alone  could  revive  in  my  soul  the  springs  of 
life.  But  darling,  remember  I  did  not  blame 
you.  You  were  given  to  understand  I  was 
unworthy  of  you;  and  could  I  then  blame 
you  for  ceasing  to  love  so  unworthy  an  ob¬ 
ject.  But  Oh!  darling  one,  believe  not  this 
of  me.  This  life  shall  prove  to  you  I  am 
worthy  of  thee.  Dear  love,  only  see  how  I 
adore  thee;  every  action  of  this  life  shall 
convince  you  of  the  truth,  the  devotion,  the 
purity  of  this  heart.  Oh!  dearest,  once 
more  let  me  intreat  you,  implore  you,  to  love 
me.  ’Tis  myall;  ’tis  my  very  breath,  Oh! 
to  know  that  you  love  me — to  hear  it  from 
thy  sweet  lips,  to  see  in  those  dear  eyes,  those 
eyes,  more  eloquent  than  words.  This,  this 
is  my  happiness,  and  what  trouble,  what  suf¬ 
fering,  would  be  too  high  a  price  for  thy  love. 
Oh!  darling,  can  you  ever  desert  one  who 
loves  you  as  I  do?  Dearest,  when  I  dwell 
on  the  deep,  exalted  feelings  of  this  heart, 
which  no  language  can  express,  I  cannot 
merely  say  I  love  you.  No,  it  is  something 
more  than  love,  more  even  than  idolatry  to 
a  feeling  I  cannot  describe;  but  ’tis  a  sort  of 
worship  of  intense  idolatry  which  exceeds  the 
very  bounds  of  imagination.  Darling,  if  you 
could  only  know  how  1  love  you,  then  you 
would  know  I  was  -worthy  of  you.  Mine  an¬ 
gel,  I  love  you  to  that  degree  of  adoration, 
my  life  is  in  your  hands;  with  you  it  rests 
whether  I  live  or  die;  for  this  love  taken 
from  me,  then,  alas!  death  is  inevitable.  Re¬ 
member  THESE  WORDS,  AND  PAUSE  ERE  YOU 

decide  my  rate.  Dearest  angel,  ’tis  this 
fear  which  makes  me  so  miserable,  it  almost 
kills  me;  and  darling,  you  cannot  blame  me 
for  feeling  thus  when  you  reflect  that  you  are 
my  all  in  this  world ;  and  as  the  only  being  I 
love,  it  is  but  natural  I  should  cling  to  you 
with  such  fondness,  such  tenacity.  Darling, 
1  am  so  miserable  when  away  from  you  that 
hours  actually  seem  days,  and  since  yesterday 
appears  an  eternity.  *  On  to-morrow,  God 
grant  I  may  get  a  dear  note  from  you  telling 


45 

me  the  heavenly  words  that  you  still  love  me. 
Ah!  when  shall  I  meet  you?  for  heaven’s 
sake  let  it  be  instantly,  instantly,  for  this  ab¬ 
sence  almost  takes  from  me  life  itself.  I  left 
No.  18  at  a  most  unfortunate  moment,  I  fear, 
for  I  observed  several  persons  in  the  room 
opposite,  whose  faces  I  could  not  distinguish 
for  my  veil,  also  a  servant  in  the  Rotunda. 
Now  I  am  afraid  they  will  speak  of  it,  for 
of  course  they  saw  the  door  tried,  and  then 
my  coming  out  looked  suspicious.  I  wished 
I  had  remained  a  few  moments  longer,  then 
I  might  have  left  unobserved.  Do,  darling, 
try  every  way  and  ascertain  if  any  thing  has 
been  said  by  the  servants,  for  'tis  them.  I fear. 
I  can  only  hope  you  did  not  come  out  the 
same  door  I  did,  for  if  you  did,  of  course  it 
gave  rise  to  remarks.  However,  I  trust, 
these  are  only  my  fears — but  should  you  find 
that  anything  has  been  said  you  had  best  en¬ 
deavor  to  explain  it  away.  I  think  it  strange 
the  door  should  have  been  tried  twice,  and  I 
should  like  you  to  find  out  the  person  so  in¬ 
quisitive.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  go  to  41 ; 
for  there  I  am  so  apt  to  meet - .  How¬ 

ever,  dearest,  I  leave  it  for  you  to  make  the 
arrangement;  but  I  beg  you  will  use  all 
means  to  find  out  if  any  thing  has  been  said, 
as  I  feel  very  anxious  to  know.  I  can  but 
regret  I  left  at  the  time  I  did ;  however  no 
one  may  have  recognized  me  through  my 
veil.  You  can  find  out  surely.  Oh !  dearest, 
if  I  do  not  soon  see  you,  I  know  not  what 
will  become  of  me.  Again  darling,  I  be¬ 
seech  you  let  it  be  the  first  moment  that  it  is 
possible;  for  loving  you  as  I  do,  absence  is 
insupportable.  From  the  loss  of  rest,  and 
opium  together,  my  head  aches  so  badly  that 
I  must  write  no  more  till  to-morrow.  Dear 
love,  won’t  you  kiss  your  poor,  poor  Virginia, 
and  say  you  still  love  me. 

No.  15. 

3  o’clock  Tuesday. 

[No  date,  but  presumed  to  have  been  writ¬ 
ten  August  25th.l 

Darling  one,  I  have  just  returned  from  the 
Exchange,,  and  you  can  conceive  what  my 
feelings  are  at  the  bitter,  bitter  disappointment 
of  not  seeing  you.  Dearest  you  must  forgive 
me,  I  cannot  write.  Could  you  know  half  the 
agony  of  this  heart,  you  would  see  how  im¬ 
possible  ’tis  for  me  to  write.  Oh  !  mine  own 
dear  one,  I  have  never  known  such  suffering 
before  :  and  if  ’tis  to  endure  much  longer, 
death  is  far  preferable.  The  only  thing  that 
supports  me  now  is  the  hope  of  seeing  you 
to-morrow.  Oh !  mine  own  loved  angel,  if 
’tis  possible  I  implore  you  to  see  me.  If  you 
can  manage  it  so  far  as  to  meet  in  41,  there 
you  can  rest  on  the  sofa  ;  and  think  dearest, 
what  happiness  you  will  give  her  who  loves 
you  above  the  whole  world.  If  you  cannot 
see  me,  send  me  a  note  at  12  o’clock,  so  if  I 
do  not  receive  one  at  that  hour,  I  shall  fly  to 
you  on  the  wings  of  love.  My  God  !  the  very- 
thought  of  it,  thrills  me  with  joy.  Dearest, 


46  TRIAL  OR  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


sweetest  darling,  once  more  I  implore  you 
see  me  and  send  happiness  to  the  poor  dis¬ 
tracted  bosom  of  your  own  VIRGINIA. 

No.  16. 

[On  the  back  of  this  letter  is  endorsed 
“  Wednesday,  August  26th,  1846.” — in  Mr. 
Hoyt's  hand  writing.] 

Wednesday. 

Dear  darling,  how  awfully,  bitterly,  disap¬ 
pointed  I  am  again  to-day.  Oh  !  dearest,  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  die  this  day.  My  God  !  I 
am  dying  to  see  you.  Dear,  dearest  one, 
won’t  you  write  me  this  morning !  Yes,  I 
know  you  will  sweet  one,  every  word  will 
comfort  me  so  sweetly.  Darling,  you  made 
me  so  happy  last  evening  by  telling  me  you 
still  loved  me.  Oh  !  could  you  know  the  joy 
those  dear  words  give  me,  you  would  not 
blame  me  for  so  often  saying — “  Dearest,  do 
you  love  me  !”  As  I  have  told  you  before, 
’tis  not  that  I  doubt  you  beloved  one,  that  I 
ask  the  question,  ’tis  only  the  delight  of  having 
you  say — 11  Yes,  I  do  love  you.”  After  I  left 
you  yesterday,  dear  one,  I  repeated  to  myself 
those  magic  words  of  thine,  and  oh  !  what 
feelings  of  bliss  did  they  not  create  in  this 
bosom — dear,  dearest  angel,  so  long  as  you 
love  me  I  am  perfectly  happy.  Think  of  this 
mine  angel,  and  never,  never  take  from  me 
this  precious  treasure.  Oh  God!  mine  own 
worshipped  one,  how  I  do  love  you. 

In  that  hateful  letter  he  says,  “  what  will 
you  give  him  next,  your  very  soul?” — yes, 
1  love  you  to  perfect  idolatry,  utter  adora¬ 
tion.  Yes!  I  love  you  to  distraction  itself. 

No.  17. 

[Endorsed  Friday,  August  31st-  1846.] 
Thursday,  30th. 

Darling,  1  do  feel  sad,  sad  to-day.  For 
the  last  hour  I  have  been  all  alone  weeping. 
Yes !  weeping,  over  a  fate  as  dark,  as  gloomy 
as  mine.  Oh,  dear  one,  you  do  not  know  all 
I  have  to  make  me  wretched.  Dearest,  only 
see  how  I  am  situated  in  this  world;  bound 
former  to  a  man  who  does  not  hesitate  to 
tell  me  he  cares  nothing  for  me — treated, 
alas!  my  God  only  knows  how  cruelly'.  The 
affection  of  my  father,  mother,  all  ray  family, 
alienated  from  me.  Living  in  this  unhappi¬ 
ness,  nay,  wretchedness,  and  yet,  not  one 
hope  in  the  future — I  can  look  for  no  relief 
save  that  of  death.  Each  hour  liable  to  be 
turned  from  this  my  only  home  and  cast  upon 
the  world  a  perfect  outcast.  Oh !  dearest, 
was  ever  woman  so  lost,  so  wretched.  'Tis 
in  these  moments  of  sorrow,  that  1  long  for 
thee  to  lay  my  head  on  thy  bosom,  and  let 
thee  breathe  away  the  cloud  from  my  soul.  I 
am  yours  so  entirely  that  you  can  make  me 
just  what  you  please. 

1  would  not  quit  one  thought  of  thee, 

Nor  bid  my  dream  of  joy  take  wing, 

I  would  not  from  thy  spell  be  free, 

For  all  the  treasures  earth  can  bring. 

Virginia. 


No.  18. 

[The  following  is  endorsed,  Monday,  21st 
September,  1846.  The  letter  through  Boy- 
den,  that  she  says  she  is  so  anxious  about, 
had  been  intercepted  by  Col.  Myers  on  the 
16th.] 

Monday,  half-past  2  o’clock. 

T  shall  be  at  the  window,  front,  just  above 
the  front  steps,  to-night,  at  12  o’clock  pre¬ 
cisely — that  is,  if  the  family  have  retired.  If j 
not  there  at  that  hour,  icait  till  I  come.  I 
will  give  you  a  farewell  note,  attached  to  a 
string.  After  you  take  mine,  tie  your  note 
to  the  string  and  I  will  draw  it  up — I  will 
know  it  is  you  by  your  waving  your  white 
handkerchief.  Write  me  every  moment  this 
afternoon;  for  remember  I  shall  not  hear 
from  you  again  for  a  long  while.  Answer  every 
word  of  this  letter;  tell  me  how  you  feel  for 
me.  Remember  those  words  are  to  support  me 
to-morrow  through  the  greatest  trial  woman 
has  ever  been  called  to  endure.  Tell  me  you 
are  for  ever  mine,  and  then  they  may  condemn 
me.  I  will  only  cling  closer  to  thee.  Have 
no  fear  of  writing,  for  every  word  is  burned 
instantly.  Tell  me  you  will  write  me  so  soon 
as  I  get  every  thing  safely.  Dearest,  on  this 
promise  life  depends.  Till  to-night,  farewell. 

Your  poor  miserable,  but  devoted - -. 

Did  you  receive  a  letter  through  Boyden? 

I  sent  you  one,  and  am  anxious  about  it. 

No.  19. 

[The  following  is,  no  doubt,  the  “  farewell 
note,”  which  he  received  “  attached  to  the 
string.”  It  was  probably  the  last  token  of 
affection  he  ever  received  from  this  guilty, 
but  unfortunate  woman:] 

Monday,  21st  Sept. 

Oh  God !  was  ever  misery  like  mine ! 
wretched  days  and  sleepless  nights.  Oh  God! 
what  is  hope  to  me  now  !  To-morrow  de¬ 
cides  my  fate.  I  am  separated  from  my  hus¬ 
band,  and  compelled  to  return  to  a  home 
where  I  know  not  how  1  shall  be  received. 
My  father  is  a  stem-hearted  man — from  him 
I  can  receive  nothing  but  unkindness,  per¬ 
haps  cruelty;  but,  oh  God!  defend  me  from 
this  fate  !  Oh,  what  is  it  that  stays  my  hand, 
when  all  this  misery  may  be  ended  in  one 
moment?  My  God  !  this  life  must  be  taken! 

I  cannot  support  it.  Oh  that  I  had  strength 
to  WTite  you,  but  this  poor  bosom  is  too  ago¬ 
nized  for  one  wefrd.  Oh  that  I  could  see  you 
but  for  one  moment — just  one  instant;  but 
no,  alas!  it  cannot  be!  Dearest,  for  one 
hour  last  night  did  I  sit  at  the  window  just 
over  the  steps,  hoping  to  see  you;  but  you 
did  not  come.  My  God!  just  for  one  hour 
with  thee,  1  would  give  up  life  itself.  You 

ask  me  if  Dr.  and  Mrs. - are  kind  to 

me?  Dr. - is  so  incensed  against  me, 

that  he  will  not  even  see  me.  He  believes  I 
wrote  the  letters.  He  says  they  are  so  filled 
with  love  and  idolatry,  that  he  never  believed 
before  woman  could  iove  with  such  intensity. 
They  are  indeed  awful  letters — every  word 


TRIAL  OP  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


breathing  the  deepest,  fondest  love.  Mrs. 

— - has  been  like  an  angel  to  me.  She 

believes  me  innocent,  pure  and  heavenly.— 
She  feels  for  me  more  than  I  dared  hope  any 
one  would  feel  for  me.  She  sleeps  with  me, 
soothes  me,  prays  for  me,  when  I  am  in  such 
agony  that  I  am  almost  a  maniac.  Some¬ 
times  I  have  suffered  so,  that  in  order  to  allay 
my  miseries,  I  have  taken  40  drops  of  laud¬ 
anum.  Every  day  since  that  fatal  Thursday 
|; I  have  taken  opium  every  five  hours;  for 
without  it  I  should  have  died,  No  mortal 
could  endure  agonies  like  mine.  Oh  God  1 
when  I  think  on  my  future  fate,  I  am  beside 
myself — going  to  a  house  where  I  shall  meet 
nothing  save  harshness — no  being  to  speak 
one  word  of  comfort — one  word  of  kindness 
— all  cold,  chilling  to  me — perhaps  on  a  bed 
of  illness,  death — no  creature  to  smooth  my 
dying  pillow.  Oh  Godl  God!  God!  the 
thought  kills  me;  alas!  what  may  be  reality? 
Dearest,  never  forget — never  forget — swear 
*to  me  you  never  will,  your  promise  that  my 
last  moments  shall  be  spent  with  you.  You 
shall  be  sent  for — that  I  promise;  and  oh,  tell 
me  you  will  not  refuse  to  come — promise  me 
— nay,  swear  it,  then  I  will  be  happy,  know¬ 
ing  the  last  breath  will  be  in  thy  arms.  I 
expect  nothing  from  my  family  but  unkind¬ 
ness  ;  and  now  I  wish  you  to  advise  me  on 
this  subject.  Dear  one,  you  are  my  all,  and 
on  you  I  depend  for  every  thing.  I  have  told 
you  that  I  have  means  sufficient  to  support 
myself  for  a  year:  should  my  treatment  at 
home  be  such  as  I  fear  it  will  be,  what  would 
you  advise  me  to  do?  If  they  treat  me  cru¬ 
elly,  you  certainly  would  not  wish  me  to  en¬ 
dure  it.  I  have  a  very  dear  friend  at  W ashing- 
ton,  Mrs. - ,  a  woman  of  the  very  first  fa¬ 

mily  and  standing.  She  is  so  devoted  to  me, 
that  she  will  refuse  me  nothing.  She  loves 
me  she  says  as  her  child.  Shall  I  apply  to 
her  to  get  me  a  situation  as  teacher  in  some 
school,  or  any  other  employment  she  might 
see  fit?  I  can  write  to  her  and  go  to  her 
unknown  to  my  family,  for  perhaps  if  they 
knew  it,  they  would  not  let  me  go.  Will  not 
this  be  a  good  arrangement?  I  have  such 
confidence  in  her  devotion  to  me,  that  I  know 
she  will  not  refuse  me  any  favour,  however 
great — indeed  I  know  she  would  insist  on  my 
remaining  with  her; — but  that  I  would  agree 
to  only  on  one  condition — that  she  allows  me 
to  earn  my  own  support.  Did  you  know  how 
she  loves  me,  you  would  be  sure  that  I  would 
meet  from  her  unbounded  kindness.  Now, 
dearest,  know  how  coldly,  how  unkindly  I  am 
to  be  treated  at  home.  They  will  treat  me 
so  as  to  break  my  heart,  and  oh  !  I  cannot 
endure  more  than  I  am  now  suffering!  In 
your  letter  to  -night,  tell  me  how  I  shall  act  in 
this  affair,  for  I  will  do  nothing  without  your 
advice.  Oh,  my  very  heart  bleeds,  when  I 
think  of  the  trials  before  me!  Oh,  you  do 
pity  me!  Think  of  me  to-morrow,  when  my 
fate  is  to  be  decided;  and  oh,  pray  God  to 
have  mercy  on  me!  Dear  one,  I  trust  you 


47 

will  send  me  the  ring,  for  now  I  need  every 
kindness  from  you,  to  strengthen  and  support 
me;  and  oh  that  ring  will  be  such  a  solace. 
For  the  sake  of  mercy  refuse  it  not.  All  my 
friends,  believing  me  to  be  ill,  not  haying 
heard  of  my  distress,  have  been  to  see  me, 
but  my  mind  is  in  such  a  state,  I  have  seen 
no  one.  Every  hour  I  receive  some  message 

from  some  of  them.  J.  W - has  been 

every  day,  but  I  can  see  no  one.  I  am  in  too 
much  agony  ;  and  Col.  M — - —  forbids  my 
mentioning  the  subject  to  a  creature  ;  and 
dearest,  do  you  not  think,  in  justice  to  myself,  I 
should  have  told  my  friends  of  this — for  when 
I  am  gone,  they  will  hear  Col.  M - ’s  state¬ 

ment.  He  will  be  believed,  and  I  shall  not 
be  here  to  defend  my  friends  of  all,  but  I  am 
not  allowed  to  do  so.  They  will  hear  my 
accusers  when  I  am  gone,  and  I  shall  not  be 
here  to  say  I  am  innocent.  Oh,  how  unjust 
they  are  to  me  !  In  those  letters  there  is  not 
a  word  said  of  our  meeting  once  in  the  par¬ 
lour.  Dearest,  once  moie,  promise  never 

to  speak  to  P.  B, - .  Col.  M - told 

Dr.  C - ,  that  P.  E -  told  him  of 

things  which  occurred  between  us,  saying  he 
had  them  from  Boyden,  who  was  “our  friend.” 

P.  E - spoke  of  you  vilely,  to  Col.  M - , 

saying  you  were  not  a  fit  associate  for  men ; 
also  told  him  of  a  certain  woman  whom  you 

had  as  a - ;  but  my  God!  all  I  ask  is, 

shun  him,  for  he  is  the  ruiner  of  my  peace — 
as  such,  could  you  speak  to  him?  Dearest, 
I  know  I  shall  leave  here  either  to-morrow 
or  Wednesday,  for  home.  After  I  am  at 
home,  I  shall  write  you,  telling  you  all,  for 
fear  of  danger.  I  shall  enclose  the  letter  to 
Boyden,  putting  it  in  the  office  with  my  own 
hands.  In  that  letter,  I  shall  form  some  ar¬ 
rangement  by  which  you  can  write  me.  It 
shall  be  without  risk — for  all  shall  be  fixed 
with  the  greatest  precaution.  I  think  now, 
of  getting  a  friend  of  mine,  with  whom  I  am 
exceedingly  intimate,  to  allow  me  to  receive 
your  letters  through  him.  He  is  very  fond 
of  me,  and  I  know  will  agree  to  it— perfectly 
honorable,  and  therefore  there  cannot  be  the 
least  danger.  He  will  deliver  your  letters  to 
me  in  person.  In  your  letter  to-night,  tell 
me  if  you  will  agree  to  this.  I  know  you 
will,  for  could  you  refuse  me  such  a  happiness 
— separated  from  you,  and  not  hear  from 
you — this  is  utterly  impossible,  impossible. 
Oh  dearest !  tell  me  you  will  do  this,  when 
I  write  you  it  has  been  arranged  perfectly 
safe,  I  entreat  you,  as  my  last  request,  refuse 
me  not — for,  refuse  me  this,  and  take,  take 
away  life.  Oh  dear !  how  we  will  pass  the 
days  of  absence,  knowing  that  we  are  faith¬ 
ful,  constant — and  I  feel  that  ere  long,  God 
will  make  us  happy.  Yes,  dearest,  I  some¬ 
times  think  this  trial  which  is  now  so  grievous, 
is  to  be  the  means  of  finally  uniting  us  for¬ 
ever.  If  you  are  faithful,  it  will  be  so;  for 
ere  long,  I  may  be  free,  honorably  free,  and 
then  I  am  yours.  Tell  me,  beloved,  do  you 
not  believe  I  shall  one  day  be  thine?  Do 


TRIAL  OF  MYERS  AND  OTHERS. 


48 

you  not  believe  this  very  circumstance  is  to 
bring  me  to  thee?  Oh,  God  grant  it.  There 
is  only  one  fear — that  is — change.  If  we 
continue  to  love,  God  says,  we  shall  be  happy. 
Dearest,  now  tell  me  you  will  always  love 
me,  and  we  will  wait  patiently  for  the  hour 
of  our  re-union.  If  we  love  always,  there 
can  he  nothing  to  prevent  our  being  united 
— for  I  shall  be  free,  and  then  I  am  thine. 
Dearest,  do  you  think  you  can  stand  this 
test?  When  you  write  in  your  note  to-night, 
tell  me,  for  that  will  support  me  when  all 
else  fails.  The '  hope,  the  belief,  that  we  are 
to  bo  one  day  happy,  and  I  swear  nothing 
shali  prevent  it,  if  you  love  me.  To-morrow, 
dearest,  we  part,  yet  ’tis  not  forever.  No, 
the  h  jut  comes  when  we  shall  be  happy. 
Oh  di>arest,  the  belief  that  we  shall  be  faith¬ 
ful,  constant,  supports  me.  I  can  stand  eve¬ 
rything  while  you  love  me.  Promise  me 
that  no  being  shall  have  one  thought,  one 
feeling  of  thine.  Love  me,  and  I  again 
swear,  nothing  shall  prevent  my  being  yours, 
and  honorably  yours.  This  separation  is  a 
grievous  trial,  but  we  will  look  beyond  it  to 
the  blight  day  of  our  meeting.  I  cannot 
write,  for  alas!  alas!  I  am  too  wretched. 
Oh  dearest,  pray  for  me.  Tell  me,  when  I 
am  gone  will  you  pray  for  me?  Oh  that 
those  letters  had  not  been  intercepted!  But 
alas  !  it  was  from  no  carelessness  of  mine.  I 
knew  not  that  the  servant  was  my  spy.  I 
coul  1  not  forsee  this.  No,  it  was  decreed  by 
God  all  these  trials  should  come  on  me.  I 
havo  learned  one  lesson.  I  will  never  trust 
a  human  being  again  with  a  letter.  I  put 
then  i  in  the  office  with  mine  own  hands,  and 
I  retewe  them  in  those  hands.  No  one  will 
I  trast,  exept  a  man  whom  I  know  to  be 
worthy  of  my  confidence.  He  shall  be  our 
frieiid. 

No.  20. 

[The  following  letter  was  written  by  Mrs. 
Myers  after  she  had  been  taken  to  her  father’s 
house  .and  is  dated  the  very  day  upon  which 
Hoyt  died.  Consequently,  he  never  saw  it, 
and  it  must  have  been  placed  in  the  package 
with  the  others,  by  some  of  his  friends.] 

Alta  Vista,  Oct.  9tli. 

Having  learned,  through  the  medium  of  a 
friend,  that  all  my  letters  addressed  to  you 
duriag  the  whole  period  of  my  acquaintance, 
havo  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Mills, 
with  directions  from  you  to  circulate  them 
freely  and  extensively  through  Rihhmond,  in 
order  to  show  the  public  that  you  were  sought 
and  nduccd  by  me,  thus  increasing  popular 


prejudice  against  me,  you  can  surely  imagine 
how  I  was  shocked  and  astonished  at  this  in¬ 
telligence.  1  could  scarce  believe  that  you, 
whom  I  had  deemed  so  honorable,  so  gener¬ 
ous,  should  have  acted  in  this  manner  to¬ 
wards  me,  overwhelmed  as  I  am  by  grief  and 
anguish.  Those  letters  were  written  in  the 
most  confiding  spirit,  and  without  one  thought 
that,  in  the  tempest  of  public  feeling,  they 
would  be  exposed  by  you  indiscriminately  to 
the  perusal  of  a  mixed  community.  Had 
they  been  written  fof  public  inspection,  how 
differently  would  they  have  been  penned! 

I  do  not  write  with  a  view  to  upbraid  or 
reproach  you;  but  conscience  will  have  its 
empire,  and  so  cruel  an  exposure  of  what  I 
once  deemed  sacred,  will  not  be  without  its 
reward.  I  now  beg  you  that  you  will  at  once 
surrender  to  me  all  my  letters  and  communi¬ 
cations  to  yourself.  I  cannot  believe  that 
you  will  momentarily  hesitate  to  send  them 
to  me  without  any  delay,  inasmuch  as  the 
request  you  made  me  to  destroy  every  line 
penned  by  you  to  myself,  was  so  trustingly 
performed.  If  you  are  acting  from  revenge, 
you  may  be  assured  the  communications  in¬ 
tercepted  by  Colonel  Myers,  and  now  in  the 
possession  of  my  enemies,  are  sufficient  to 
crush  me  forever,  devastate  every  hope,  and 
destroy  all  my  prospects  of  happiness.  I  en¬ 
treat  you  pause,  and  reflect  that  the  wreck  of 
my  destiny  is  complete,  without  further  assis¬ 
tance  from  your  hand.  I  trust  you  will  re¬ 
frain  from  exposiug  any  of  my  letters  to  you, 
now  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Mills,  in  the  public 
Court.  This  I  entreat  of  you.  You  can 
imagine  how  I  shrink  from  such  an  exposure 
of  letters,  written  in  such  sacred  confidence. 
Spare  me  this  blow,  at  least,  for  I  am  over¬ 
whelmed  with  sorrow.  Grant  this  my  last 
and  only  request.  You  would  not,  surely, 
by  such  a  course,  lacerate  more  deeply  the 
wounds  already  and  forever  inflicted  on  my 
peace,  my  reputation  and  my  hope. 

In  anguish  and  grief, 

Virginia  Myers,  <| 

You  can  seal  up  my  letters  in  a  package 
and  send  them  to  me  by  mail,  or  put  them  iu 
a  small  box  and  send  them  by  the  boat. 
Direct,  Warren,  Albemarle,  Va. 


[There  were  many  other  letters  produced 
in  court  to  which  we  could  have  had  access, 
but  as  these  were  the  only  ones  that  were 
offered  in  evidence,  we  considered  that  they 
were  the  only  ones  the  public  had  a  right  to 
see.] 


TEE  END. 


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